Harry Potter and the Call of the Moon
by Rhya Storm
Summary: An AU of Harry's sixth year. The ever increasing threat of Voldemort looms over the wizarding world, but a beam of light may be found in the form of four friends: the leader, the strategist, the genius, and the optimist.
1. A Midsummer Night's Encounter

Rating: PG-13 for dark subjects in later chapters.

Summary: An AU of Harry's sixth year. The ever increasing threat of Voldemort looms over all, but a beam of light may be found in the form of four friends: the leader, the strategist, the smart one, and the optimist.

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter™ universe and characters belong to a wonderfully lucky person named J. K. Rowling. I am not that person. Seriously – if I did, do you think I would be hanging around _here_? I _do_, however, own Sheridan Parker, Samantha, Professor Stanton, Sara Stanton, Lizzie Parker, Robert and Diana Parker, and the plot. And I am _very possessive_.

A/N: For those of you who are homophobes, or simply don't like this take on Harry – this is _Slash_, people. Which means male/male, yaoi, shonen ai, whatever you wish to call it. It is _extremely_ gradual. And no smut. Definitely no smut. There shalt be no smutty-ness. Sorry to all you smut fans.

This is an AU place, btw, in which Sirius is _alive_. But events at the Ministry after the Veil unfold much the same as they did in the book, cuz Harry does not know that Sirius is alive until _after_ the battle with Voldemort. Thank yuz.

Dedicated: To Rachel, who read it first and kept kickin' me in the arse to write more. It is thanks to her that this is up here now. Go thank her. (She is "demonfairy", btw.) And, to Angelle, who encouraged me to post it. Thanks to both of yuz so much!

Pairings: Harry/OC, Ron/Hermione, no Sirius/Remus, they're just good friends. Anything else is totally unplanned.

**Chapter 1: A Midsummer Night's Encounter**

"Where are you going, boy?"

Harry halted, his hand upon the doorknob. The sharp, brusque question harbored no real concern for his well-being, but for the speaker's own if Harry was to be harmed in any way. Harry wryly reflected upon this irony before replying, "I'm just going out for a walk."

His Uncle Vernon, who had posed the question, turned a ruddy sort of puce. "Don't take that tone of voice with me," he harrumphed gruffly, turning back to his paper, not really protesting at all. Harry wondered idly what tone he was supposed to have used; lately, his voice had become rather dull and flat, toneless in quality.

He shrugged in response to his uncle's half-hearted posturing and stepped outside into the cool July night. He shut the screen door firmly behind himself, exhaling a deep sigh of relief at the sound of the click. He felt … stifled, in that house. It was hard to breathe. If not for these nightly rambles he had taken to having, and of course the weekly checks from Tonks and Remus, Harry was certain that he would have gone mad long ago.

Not that the Dursleys were being particularly horrible this summer – no, not at all. They were doing their level best to avoid Harry, of course, but when they were forced to speak with him, they took pains to be civil, although the meals were as skimpy as ever. Harry's stomach growled as the teen ran a critical eye over his reflection in a rain puddle. He had grown a little bit over the summer, but he was still very short compared with most boys his age, and painfully thin from lack of food. He hadn't been very hungry lately, and only picked at the meager meals that the Dursleys served him.

He strolled along the sidewalks, not headed in any particular direction, just intent upon enjoying the temporary feeling of freedom, the cool night air, and the hum of nighttime beings coming to life underneath the long-darkened sky.

Harry was not particularly surprised when he found himself at the nearby park – he'd come there many times before, to sit, think, and reflect. The swing-sets creaked in the breeze as he sat down upon one, rocking back and forth slightly as he idly ran his gaze over the rest of the playground. His roving emerald eyes came to rest on a lone figure spinning lazily about on the old carousel.

_Must be Tonks,_ Harry thought, slightly surprised. He'd just seen her five days ago, and she normally only came to see him once every seven days – it was too dangerous for anything shorter. _Maybe something's happened?_

He slowly stood up, pondering what could possibly have happened that would give Tonks cause to check up on him. He could only think of two things; something serious had happened concerning Voldemort (which Harry doubted, as it would probably have been posted all over the Muggle news), or something had developed with …

… with Sirius.

No one knew what had _really_ happened to him. When Sirius had fallen through the veil, one leg had remained sticking out. Kingsley had later informed Harry - who had been chased off by Death Eaters, being herded into the main hall, at that point - that Professor Lupin (or Remus, as Harry now called him) had thankfully had the presence of mind to yell _Accio!_, pulling Sirius back from the veil.

Sirius had been unconscious, but seemingly unharmed. Kingsley and Remus managed to smuggle him back to Grimmauld Place without anyone in the Ministry noticing, and the returning Order members had been immensely relieved to find Sirius alive and not gone forever, as they had feared. But, after a few days had gone by, that relief was giving way to worry once more. Sirius had not woken up. He was breathing and apparently perfectly healthy, except for the fact that nothing the Order members had done could awaken him.

They brought him to St. Mungo's, as soon as the Minister cleared his name, which was almost immediately. But the Healer's were stymied – they had never seen anything like it before. Remus and Dumbledore had asked to bring Sirius back home, where those who cared for him could watch over him and try to revive him. Their request was granted at once.

They kept the loyal dog Animagus fed and comfortable, but all they could truly do was pray. Sirius had been comatose for over a month now. Several distant Order members had suggested that perhaps Sirius' soul was no longer present, and they should just dispose of the remaining shell. Dumbledore had – _politely_ – refused, while Harry and Remus had protested rather more … vehemently.

After that incident, Dumbledore performed a special charm that affirmed that Sirius' soul remained within his body. After that, there was no more talk of 'putting him out of his misery', though a faint sense of hopelessness steadily pervaded the Order as the days and weeks slowly dragged by without change.

As Harry approached the form, still half-lost in his reverie, the lone figure did not move towards the young wizard, or even acknowledge his presence. No wave, no determinedly cheerful "Wotcher, Harry!". Nothing. Harry realized with a sudden start that the figure was not Tonks at all, but somebody else.

Harry very nearly halted his approach before his curiosity returned. He reminded himself that the neighborhood was under careful watch by the Order, and none of Voldemort's followers could come here. It was probably one of the neighborhood kids. Not one of Dudley's gang – too scrawny – Harry could tell that even from a distance. Harry couldn't remember seeing him around, but then, most people around here did their best to avoid him.

He was about to turn and leave when the stranger quietly spoke up; "Hello."

Harry halted, surprised. "Hello …" he replied warily. "I haven't seen you around here before." Not the most intelligent thing to say, but it was the only thing that came to mind.

The strange teen shrugged. Harry could just barely make him out in the darkness – very thin and small of stature, like Harry himself. If they stood next to each other, Harry would probably be several inches taller than him. He had very, very long, shaggy hair pulled back at the base of his neck in a kind of sloppy ponytail. Harry had never seen a guy with hair that long – it reached the boy's waist.

"You wouldn'tve," the figure said dismissively. He had a strange accent Harry had never heard before. Before Harry could reply, he added, "I just moved here about a week ago. Where do you live?"

Harry gestured back towards Privet Drive. "Back there a ways with my aunt and uncle."

The strange teen glanced in the direction Harry had indicated with a wave of his hand, and nodded. "D'you know that great troll of a guy that wrecks things?" he asked suddenly. "Whatsisname, Dummy?"

Harry's mouth quirked slightly. He hadn't smiled since Sirius' … accident. "Yeah – Dudley. He's my cousin." He walked over and sat next to the boy, adding, "From the voice of long experience, a good thing to do when confronted with Dudley would be to leave. Quickly."

The teen chuckled. Closer, Harry could now see that he was about Harry's own age, with light-colored hair that seemed silvery in the starlight. If there had been more moonlight, his outlines would have been clearer, but it was now new moon, so it was dimmer than usual.

"What's your name?" the strange teenager asked after a moment.

Harry couldn't see anything wrong with giving it to him. "Harry. Harry Potter."

The boy nodded. "All right, Harry. My name is Sheridan. You can call me Shi, if you like. Personally, I think Sheridan is a bit of a mouthful."

"Shi?" Harry repeated – it seemed a strange nickname.

Sheridan grinned over at him. "It was either that, or Sher."

"Ah." Harry mused on that for a moment before inquiring curiously, "Where are you from? You have a funny accent."

"_You're _the one with the funny accent," Sheridan retorted. "I'm from America. Virginia, actually. My folks, however, are English."

Harry nodded, mildly interested in spite of himself. "Cool. What's it like in America?" _A world without Voldemort,_ he thought wistfully to himself.

"Warmer. Cleaner, in places." Glancing about at the grey and beige houses surrounding them, Shi added, "More colorful."

"Almost anyplace is," Harry muttered, thinking wistfully of the brightly decorated corridors of Hogwarts before recalling the grey, desolate halls of Grimmauld Place that the Order had endeavored to brighten.

Shi chuckled, white teeth flashing in the starlight. "Heh. I can testify to that!"

When Harry didn't grin back – his face seemed to have forgotten all expressions of happiness – Sheridan leaned back against one rusty bar-handle of the carousel upon which they were seated, staring upwards into the night sky.

"Where d'you go to school?"

Shi's question caught Harry off guard. He most certainly could _not_ tell the truth, that much was certain. But, even though Shi would eventually hear it from someone else, Harry could not bring himself to tell the first friendly being he'd seen in over a month – excluding Tonks – that he went to "St. Brutus' School for Incurably Criminal Boys".

"Around," Harry settled for vaguely. "Boarding school. I live for September."

Sheridan snorted. "That bad, huh? Around here, I mean."

"Hell yeah," Harry replied with loathing, remembering the coldness that the town's occupants treated him with, the violence of Dudley and his gang, the mocking names, everything …

Shi sighed heavily. "Yeah, I can tell," he murmured, half to himself. "Y'know, you're the first person that I've had a real, honest-to-god conversation with since I came here. Hard to find anyone friendly that doesn't kiss Dumbo's ass to stay outta trouble."

Harry shrugged. "People around here … don't like strange things," he muttered. "Scared of what's different. Like foreigners."

"You don't seem to mind," Shi told him frankly.

"I …" Harry paused a moment before continuing. "I'm different."

Sheridan grinned wryly. "So am I. I'm _very_ different. People around here'll probably despise me. Go figure, eh?"

Harry shrugged again. "They already despise me," he informed Shi. "It's not that difficult after a while. They just tend to leave you alone." They did, too.

"Except for whatsisface Dudley."

"Except for Dudley," Harry agreed with a sigh.

They sat in companionable silence for a time. Neither wondered at the fact that they got along so well – felt so comfortable with one another – when they had just met. It never occurred to either of them to be surprised at this – it felt natural. Like they had always been friends, and just hadn't known it.

"Why do you live with your aunt and uncle?" Shi asked after a while, sounding curious.

"My parents are dead," Harry replied flatly.

"Oh." That was all. No awkward "I'm sorry", no uncomfortable apologies, and, most especially, no pity. Just a kind of sadness colored the other teen's voice – as if Death was a thing that should bring sadness to everyone. "Dudley must've been a horror, eh?"

"Yeah … 'horror' doesn't do him justice," Harry replied, feeling slightly distant. He didn't know exactly _why_ he was practically spilling his guts to some Muggle teen had had just met. But something seemed to be telling him that Sheridan could be trusted. Maybe it was because Harry was so lonely … because he was missing all of his friends, and ached for somebody to just talk to. Whatever the reason, he soon found himself telling Sheridan the edited, non-magical version of his life. Shi, in turn, told Harry about himself.

Sheridan was not an only child. He had a sister about six years older than him. He'd been born in America, but his parents were from England, and his sister had lived there for about six years before they moved to America. Now that his parents had decided to move back to America, the sister was already living on her own. Shi had stayed with her for about half a year while his parents got "settled in".

The more Harry talked with Sheridan, the more he realized what the teen had meant when he had said he was "_very_ different". Shi was slightly crazy. He jumped from one topic to another completely at random, breaking off of his narrative once to ask if Harry had ever swung on the swings standing up. When Harry had stared at him as if he had asked if Harry had ever committed suicide before, Shi had merely thrown his head back and laughed, long and hard. That had startled Harry – it had been a long, long time since he'd heard anyone, even Tonks, laugh.

They talked for a long time; Harry wasn't sure how long exactly. Eventually, however, he was forced to bid his new-found friend goodbye and head back to number four Privet Drive. When Harry had told him "Bye", Sheridan had grinned brightly and said, "See you tomorrow, Harry?"

Surprised, Harry blinked, then allowed the smallest ghost of a smile to flit across his face. "Sure – tomorrow night," he replied.

Walking back towards the Dursley's house, Harry pondered the night's events. He found, to his mild surprise, that he truly regretted the fact that Sheridan was a Muggle. If he'd been a wizard, he would've been going to Hogwarts this year … Harry shook his head. Sheridan was a Muggle. A friendly, interesting, unique Muggle, but ignorant of the entire wizarding world and the war in which it was currently immersed. Soon, Harry would be leaving for Grimmauld Place, and this … acquaintanceship, friendly rapport, whatever it was – would be over.

These increasingly gloomy thoughts slowly faded as Harry stumbled inside the Dursleys house, by-passing the occupants as he headed to his room, flopped onto his bed, and proceeded to have the first nightmare-free sleep he'd had in over a month.

A/N: Soooo ... love it? Hate it? Not sure? Wishes to murder me? REVIEW, THEN! Please? I gives cookies! By the way, I started writing this looooong before the sixth book came out. There will be similarities, but the plot is, on the whole, my own. No stealing!


	2. Letters from Friends

A/N: Well, no reviews as of yet ... I hope this one pulls in more. One alert, though. This, by the way, is supposed to be a complete sixth novel in the Harry Potter series. It does _not_ follow the plot of Half-Blood Prince - much of this was written long before it came out.

NOTE: The first chapter has been re-submitted, as I used the wrong version - mostly the same, but some of the pairings are wrong, as is the explanation of Sheridan's family, so check it out to avoid confusion in the future.

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**Chapter 2: Letters From Friends**

The following two weeks passed by quickly. Harry was fast becoming nocturnal – more so than before – sometimes he wondered off-hand if he could be classed as a vampire, he avoided the sun so much. The two check-ups with Tonks went smoothly, though the Metamorphmagus had commented on Harry's, if not quite cheerful, then less depressed mood.

Sheridan's nightly chats were largely responsible for this change. The Muggle teen was upbeat and quirky, and obviously considered Harry to be his sole friend in the entire neighborhood. Harry couldn't rightly blame him – none of the neighborhood kids close by were particularly friendly. They chatted about … well, just about everything except magic. At least, mostly.

Sheridan had once asked Harry if he believed in magic. Harry, after a moments pause, replied with a cautious yes. Sheridan, surprising Harry, had agreed with him, and then moved on to something else. As Harry recalled, it had had something to do with bluebirds and blue-jays … As Sheridan put it, they discussed "life, the universe, and the state of our closets."

But they didn't just talk. Under Sheridan's playful but no less insistent urging, Harry jumped onto a bar on the carousel while it was crazily spinning, and learned to stand on the seat of the swings and fly back and forth like a mad trapeze artist. It wasn't the same as flying his Firebolt, but Harry enjoyed it just the same. Sheridan seemed to have the ability to distract Harry from his worries – his stresses over Voldemort, the Order, Sirius, and his 'cabin fever' at being 'locked up', as it were, in number four Privet Drive. Harry was now quite certain that Shi was keeping him from loosing his temper and doing something impossibly stupid, as he was prone to do.

One Monday night, two days – nights, really – before Harry's birthday, Sheridan told Harry that he wouldn't be able to come the next night. The Muggle teen had sounded sad and rather frustrated as he explained that he was being forced to visit an uncle in London. Harry wondered why Shi had sounded so despondent – he wasn't prone to gloominess, from what Harry had seen.

The following night, Harry wandered restlessly throughout the neighborhood, searching for something to take his agitated energy out on. He ran the carousel around until it was a spinning blur, and stood on the swing-set, twisting himself dangerously about in mid-air. Only after his foot slipped from the swing-seat, nearly toppling him to the ground and breaking his neck, did he get off and head back to the Dursley's, his mood dark and foul, mind roiling with desperate thoughts on Sirius and Voldemort. He tossed and turned for hours before finally falling asleep, a beam of light from the brilliant full moon falling across his bed.

Harry awoke to the sound of Hedwig screeching from her perch on his bedstead. He sat straight up in bed and fumbled for his glasses to see what she was making such a fuss about. Jamming them onto his face, he blinked and raised his eyebrows in pleased surprise at the three packages his snowy owl had brought him. Looking about the room, he saw Errol resting in Hedwig's cage and a rosy-colored barn owl hooting by the window sill. When she was that Harry was awake, the barn owl took off in a flurry of rose-colored wings. Hedwig hooted a farewell, then glared at Harry to make him hurry up and open his letters.

Harry rolled his eyes at his owl and grabbed the nearest letter. Ripping it open, he recognized Hermione's tidy handwriting. It read:

"_Dear Harry,_

_How are you? I suppose you're going mad – I know_ I _would be. I hope this helps. The third package is from Moony, by the way – he says it's from Snuffles, too, when he wakes up._

_Snuffles hasn't changed for better or for worse. Dumbledore is hard at work to revive him, though, so I'm sure it won't be long. I hope he cures him soon – Moony and Mrs. Weasley are both going mad with worry. I suppose you are too, but do try not to worry, I'm sure he'll be just fine. So is Ron, though he'll probably tell you in his letter._

_We've met the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher – I can guarantee you'll love her! She's really marvelous – she looks after the entire order like a cheerful mother hen. You should see her forcing food down Moony's throat, it's quite a sight to see! Apparently, Snuffles and Moony used to know her from school, she was a few years under them. Oh, Dumbledore's sent out the school letters – yours is with Hedwig, I believe._

_Dolores Umbridge is also fast loosing support among the Ministry, which I'm sure you'll be glad to hear – well, except for her campaign against werewolves. Racism is alive and well in the Ministry, I'm ashamed to report. Werewolf bigotry is mounting more strongly than ever, I'm afraid – Moony can't find a job, and is now living at Snuffles' place full-time, he had to sell his old place. But he's still looking – I think he found a Muggle record store at one point, but he couldn't get enough days off per month._

_We'll be seeing you very soon, don't worry!_

_Hermione."_

Harry grinned faintly – Hermione's letter had been very chatty, as per usual, and the news about Umbridge was the best he'd had in ages. He was sorry about Remus loosing his job, though – Harry knew that the werewolf liked to feel he could take care of himself.

He left Hermione's package for the moment and moved on to the next letter, which happened to be Ron's:

"_Harry,_

_Happy Birthday! From Hermione, too, in case she's forgotten to write that along with everything else. It's still rather boring around here, though there's plenty of cleaning left to do to keep us occupied – over a year, and still not cleared out! This place'll be the death of us all._

_The new Dark Arts teacher is terrific – she's great fun, really! I wonder if this is a reward for putting up with Umbridge for a year …? And she has a daughter, Sara, who's going to be going with us to Hogwarts – they just moved in from Scotland last year, I think Sara's been home schooled until now. (Hermione and Ginny have been teasing me about being sweet on Sara. I'm not, really!)_

_I hope you like your presents – Moony helped out a lot, you can thank him when you get here. Fred and George say that business is booming, and they've got a free sampler waiting for you here – bunch of the stuff they used last year, mostly, plus a few other things._

_Oh, and Percy's still being a bloody git! Too bloody prideful to apologize! Where does he get the nerve, I ask you! But at least he's been acting as if Dad exists when they're at work. I think he can rot for all I bloody well care, but Hermione thinks he just got "over-zealous, and wants to apologize". I think she's mad, personally._

_See you,_

_Ron."_

Harry could practically see Ron's face, anxious but trying to be cheerful, focusing on the good news and avoiding all mention of the bad. Harry very nearly smiled before turning to open Remus' letter:

"_Dear Harry,_

_I hope this finds you well, and not out of your mind with worry about Snuffles and the Dark Lord. It's your birthday, for goodness sakes, cheer up! And don't believe those two liars you call friends – I did not single-handedly select your birthday gifts. Those two were a great help. So don't believe them when they say it's all my doing, I had almost nothing to do with it!_

_You'll be with us again very soon, I expect – I'll bet you're pleased about that. Your new Professor really knows her stuff; I think you'll like her very much. She's an old friend from school, actually – she was a year or two younger than us, but she still knew your father, you know. You could ask her about him – get a woman-who-was-not-chased-after-by-James's opinion. I told her all about the D. A. – hope you don't mind, sorry – and she wants to talk with you about what you've gone over so she knows what the members are up-to-speed on. (She thinks the D. A. was a splendid idea, by the way, and wants to congratulate you.)_

_See you soon, Harry._

_Remus_"

A few weeks ago, the letters would have made Harry frustrated at his current predicament (trapped at the Dursleys), and angry at his friends' attempts to cheer him up. But now, they slightly comforted him, reminding him that, soon, he would be back where he belonged, in the wizarding world.

His only regret, he realized with a start, was that Sheridan had no place in that world.

Shaking away the thought, Harry turned to his presents. He selected Hermione's first, a heavy, rectangular package wrapped in brown paper and string. He suspected that it was a book – correctly, as it turned out, as he ripped open the paper to find a colorful book on the best Quidditch maneuvers of all time, filled with snapshots of various Quidditch players executing complicated moves on broomstick, showing off for the camera.

"Thanks, Hermione," Harry whispered, flicking through the pages. He hadn't thought about Quidditch for a while, but seeing this book brought his interest back full-force. He was mildly astonished that Quidditch could capture his attention when he should've been worrying about the fact he would eventually have to kill the Dark Lord … but then, Harry had a tendency to forget that he was, in fact, a teenager, with teenager interests.

The next package he picked up was from Ron. It was smaller than Hermione's, and weirdly shaped within its paper packaging. Opening it, Harry raised a dubious eyebrow. It looked like a bunch of multicolored wires knotted together into some sort of crazy Celtic knot. Attached was a note:

"_Harry,_

_This is a Wizard's Knot Puzzle. Thought you might like it – you have to try and untangle it. You can't bend or cut the wires or anything. Depending on how you're doing, it'll change colors and shapes, and sometimes it makes noises. It's really loads of fun – enjoy!_

_Ron_

_(P.S. – I had no idea this thing existed 'til Moony told me about it.)"_

Harry glanced at the knot once more before resolving to try it out later. He grabbed the last package, a large one inscribed "From Moony and Snuffles". Opening it, he found two large books. The first, a large book on improvisations on curses and Defense spells, had a note from Moony:

"_Harry,_

_Thought you might like this. Keep you busy during DADA class and all._

_Remus**"**_

The next one was a thick book in a plain blue cloth cover, worn about the edges so you could see where some cloth was missing. Its title was "The One and Only, Book of the Best Pranks Known to the Wizarding World". Taped on the cover was a hastily scrawled note:

"_Look inside the cover."_

Curious, Harry opened to the cover page and froze. Inside the hard cover were scrawled old notes and comments … from the Marauders.

"_Mr. Prongs would like to assure the reader of these notes that the Marauders have _not_ pranked this book, as it is our _Bible

"_Mr. Padfoot concurs, and would like to add that this is the best bloody pranking book in the world – there's stuff _we've_ never thought of in here!_

_Mr. Moony agrees with Mr. Padfoot, in that this book is the pranksters greatest aid in pranking, and hopes the reader will have the good sense to not turn the book in._

_Mr. Wormtail would also like to add that this book is wonderful, as anyone can read it and understand it. No long-winded explanations._

Harry's throat tightened uncomfortably as he read the cheerful entries. "Thanks, Remus," he whispered hoarsely. He flipped slowly through the book, reading the comments and advice the Marauders had scrawled periodically throughout the book so many years ago, squeezed into the margins. He read the book for a long time.

After a while, he set it down beside him on his mattress, and opened the final letter, this one sealed with the Hogwarts crest.

"_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_The new school year will begin on September 1st. Please be at Platform 9 ¾ at ten o'clock on that day. A list of school books you will need is enclosed._

_Minerva McGonagall_

Minerva McGonagall, Professor."

He unfolded the list of books that was also in the envelope. It was quite short.

"Standard Book of Spells, Year 6 by Miranda Goshawk

Real World – Practical Defense Spells by Diana Rottwell

Dark Creatures: The Misunderstood by Arnold Worthington

Transfiguration – An Advanced Study by Thomas Darran."

Harry sighed. He wondered who the new DADA teacher was – Remus, Ron, and Hermione all seemed to like her, and he approved of her choice of books. She sounded as if she knew what she was doing.

Harry groaned and flopped backwards onto the bed. The mention of practical applications for defense spells reminded him of the war in the wizarding world, and his own coming role in it. Depression hovered overhead, threatening to descend upon him.

He shook his head, reminding himself that Sheridan would be back again that night. The thought cheered him up, and helped to chase away the gloomy feeling, although the relief was tempered by the thought that soon, he would be far, far away from the Muggle teen and his upbeat chatter.

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A/N: So ... anyone like it? At least one person does, as it's on one alert ... it'd be nice if some people reviewed, tho'! But then again, this _is_ in a section where fanfics pour in left, right, and center ... probably hard to find, ne? Well, if ya like it so far, pleaseopleaseoplease review, so I know people realize it exists!

REVIEW! Review, review, review, review, review ...


	3. Different Worlds

A/N: WHEEEEE! I GOT A REVIEW! YAAAAAAAAYYYYY!

This chapter is dedicated to the wonderful and most gracious **Amy**, for being my very first (and only) reviewer! I'm glad you think Sheridan is realistic, I tried _extremely_ hard to make him so. He's a little ... well, 'out there', but I like him like that. Thank you SO MUCH for reviewing! **((hugs excessively))**

I demand at least three reviews before updating again! **((thinks)) **Yeah, that should be good ... anyways, enjoy!

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**Chapter 3: Different Worlds**

Harry made his way to the playground, glancing upwards every once and a while to admire the moon, which was only just beginning to wane. Strolling through the district area halfway to the park, a shadow nearby a bench suddenly shifted and whispered, "Psst! Wotcher, Harry!"

Whirling, Harry stared at the old woman winking at him. "Nice one, Tonks," he said appreciatively, his heart rate slowly receding back to normal as he removed his hand from where it was wrapped around his wand, which resided in his pocket.

Tonks chuckled, gray curls bouncing beneath a knitted scarf that looked suspiciously like Hermione's handiwork. "Sorry to startle you, Harry," she said apologetically. "I know this isn't scheduled, but we couldn't mention it in the letters."

Harry nodded, understanding, and waited for her to continue.

"Two days from now," Tonks began, her voice hushed, "have those Muggles you live with drive you to the Leaky Cauldron. Don't bring all of your luggage, we've made arrangements for all that, it'd be too obvious anyways. Go to Diagon Alley, shop around for your school stuff, try to get everything you need, will you? I'll meet you at Filibusters Ice-Cream shop around four." Grimacing slightly, she added, "All this prancing about is Mad-Eye's idea – supposed to throw the Death Eaters off our scent." She rolled her eyes, obviously exasperated. "Personally, I think we could've just done like we did last year, but Mad-Eye's sadly in charge of security, so …"

Harry shrugged – he knew what Moody was like. "Yeah, "constant vigilance", I know."

Tonks nodded. "Yep. Anyways, take care, Harry!"

Harry waved a slight goodbye as the Metamorphmagus turned and left. Once she was gone, he stood for a moment or two, trying to sort out his decidedly mixed feelings. Of course he was thrilled to be going back to Grimmauld Place, where his friends, Remus, and Sirius were, although his godfather was currently catatonic. But, strangely, he was slightly reluctant to leave … he shrugged and attributed the feeling to missing Sheridan's upbeat mannerisms. Feeling more or less sure of himself once more, Harry set off for the playground.

As he neared the park, Harry could make out Sheridan by the light of the moon. The teen was sprawling, limbs akimbo, on one of the swings, spinning in circles. Harry picked up his pace slightly, noting that, in the now-bright light of the moon, Sheridan's long hair was a definite, curiously silver hue.

As Harry approached, Shi glanced up and, noticing Harry, grinned and waved. Harry grinned back as he deposited himself onto the swing beside the Muggle teen.

"Hey, Shi. How was your uncle's place?"

Sheridan grimaced, and a shadow seemed to pass across his face before he replied, "Horrible. According to my relatives, I am a "crass, rude American teen with no respect". Huh. D'you have any idea what "crass" means? Cuz I don't."

Harry chuckled slightly, but the laughter died in his throat as he noticed the white bandages wrapped around Shi's hands. He grabbed the teen's wrist, dragging Shi's hand into a patch of moonlight. Sheridan flinched, but allowed Harry to investigate.

"What happened?" the bespectacled boy demanded, concerned.

Sheridan huffed a reluctant sigh through his nostrils before replying, "I went biking down a ravine near my uncle's place. I went head-over-heels, and fell halfway down a rock-filled gully. Pretty stupid, eh?"

Now that Harry was looking closely, he could make out several bruises and scrapes all across Shi's face. He couldn't see his friend's arms – he wore a long-sleeve shirt because of the chill of the summer nights – but he supposed that they were scraped up pretty good, as well.

"Yep. Pretty stupid," Harry agreed, finally releasing Sheridan's hand. Shi withdrew it into the shadows, out of the moonlight, once more. "But I thought your uncle lived in London?"

Sheridan blinked for a moment before comprehension dawned on his face. Harry noted with idle interest that Shi's eye's were a kind of tawny-gold color as the Muggle teen replied, "He lives just outside of London, in the country. He's rich, owns a lot of land."

"Ah," Harry said, blinking. "Okay …"

"I'm fine, really!" Sheridan insisted, grinning. "Fit as a fiddle, whatever that means."

Harry nodded, good mood fading as he remembered the hurried discussion with Tonks. "Shi …" he said quietly. "I'm leaving Privet Drive day after tomorrow. For my godfather's place. For the rest of the summer."

Shi was silent for a moment, staring at Harry with an unreadable expression on his face. Then, he sighed. "Dang. It figures that the only friend I've got here has to leave, don't it?" He grinned as he said it, reassuring Harry that he didn't blame his friend for leaving. He was merely being self-mocking.

"Hey, I'll be back next summer," Harry reminded him, trying to be reassuring.

"Yeah – a _whole year away_," Sheridan half-sighed, half-laughed. "S'okay, I know you hate it here. I do too, come to think of it."

Harry shrugged, not really knowing what to say. Sheridan, noticing this, spoke up again suddenly. "Hey! I know! Instead of meeting me at the middle of the night tomorrow, robbing you of precious sleep - " Harry snorted. "- why don't we meet up at that big oak tree over there," he gestured, "around eleven? AM, I mean."

"Sure," Harry agreed, hoping the park would be relatively empty at the time – people were never comfortable around him.

Sheridan laughed; what for, Harry wasn't certain. He never _was_ certain, really. Shi just liked to laugh. And that laughter was infectious. Sometimes, Harry suspected that Sheridan laughed just to get Harry to laugh with him.

Not that Harry minded.

"You don't laugh enough, Harry," Shi said suddenly, his laughter fading.

Harry shrugged. "I haven't had much reason to, lately," he replied matter-of-factly.

"There's always a reason to laugh!" Shi insisted, incorrigible grin finding it's way to the pale boy's features once more.

"Name one," Harry countered.

Sheridan adopted a serious, thoughtful expression. "Squirrels," he finally said. "Sunlight. Grasshoppers. Ice-cream trucks. Cardboard boxes. Ziploc bags. The Beatles. The genius that invented hooded sweatshirts and ballpoint pens. Toothpaste that makes your teeth glow in the dark." He continued loudly over the sound of Harry's helpless laughter; "Bagels. Dr. Pepper in a can. Stupid movies. Stupid reasons for doing stupid things. Monty Python. P.A. systems. The folding system that allows Kleenexes to come out of the box one by one."

Harry was laughing so hard, his face hurt, as he listened to the litany of random, ridiculous reasons to laugh. Once he regained control of his breathing, the two launched into an energetic spiel of crazy things that could make you laugh. Later, Harry would recall that Sheridan always managed to contrive to make Harry forget all about his worries, his troubles, and just enjoy the moment.

_In fact,_ Harry mused later as he slowly made his way back to the place he was forced to call "home", _Sheridan is a very straight-forwards, "live for the moment" type of person._

_I'll miss him._

The thought appeared unbidden, but it was true. Harry would sorely miss the Muggle teen when he finally left for the wizarding world.

Harry shook his head. He _belonged_ in the wizarding world. It was his parent's world, where his friends and godfather lived.

It was where he _belonged._

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A/N: Well? Remember, three persons must review before I update again! (I only updated so quickly cuz it's such a short chapter, and I got a _review_. My muse is disgusted at my lack of self-control.) 

>>>>_"I am certain there is too much certaintiy in the world." -_Michael Chrichton >>>>

REVIEW...


	4. A Reluctant Goodbye

A/N: **((sighs in exasperation and sadness)) **Ooookaaaay...what I meant by three reviews (seeing as I already had _one_) was that the little review-number-thingy would read as '4'. Obviously some of you did not grasp that concept ... or just didn't care. I'm starting to think no one likes this thing ... well, if you like it, let me know! **Or I'll take it down!**

Btw, foul language warning for this chappie. Y'know us Americans, crass, rude, and all too ready to swear, teehee. (Actually, most people I know aren't like that, but I don't know many, so ...) Anyway ... if anyone's reading this, please enjoy ...

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**Chapter 4: A Reluctant Goodbye**

The following day dawned warm and sunny, small clouds scudding across an otherwise perfectly blue sky. It was a perfect summer's day – and to top it all off, it was the last day Harry had to spend in the company of the Dursleys.

Harry trudged slowly down the stairs, making a rare early-morning appearance. Petunia paled slightly as he entered the kitchen, but other than that, none of the Dursleys acknowledged his presence.

He sat down and hesitantly cleared his throat. Vernon flinched behind his newspaper, but continued to steadfastly ignore the young wizard.

"Um … Dumbledore wants me … to be somewhere tomorrow," Harry began haltingly. The whole room turned icy at the mention of the headmaster's name. "I was … I mean, could you … drive me to the bookstore down Winston Street in London tomorrow?"

The room was filled with a hostile silence for several minutes, minutes that felt like long, long hours to Harry. Finally, Petunia stiffly directed a question to her husband.

"Vernon … isn't there something you need to get in London? Could you go there tomorrow?"

Vernon huffed indignantly, but at his wife's pointed glare he replied, "I suppose so, dear. But …" He turned threateningly towards Harry. "No hocus-pocus, or I'll dump you on the edge of the nearest highway!"

Harry nodded quickly, too relieved that they had agreed to drive him to the Leaky Cauldron without too much of a fight to protest that he wasn't allowed to do magic out of school, anyway. Request fulfilled, he quickly stood and escaped the hostile atmosphere of the kitchen, seeking refuge in his bedroom upstairs.

Hedwig cooed from her perch by his window. He reached over and stroked her, listening to the owl click her beak in pleased satisfaction. "I can't wait to be out of here, Hedwig," he told her feelingly. "I really can't wait."

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As eleven o'clock rolled around, Harry made his way now-familiar way to the playground, trying to avoid the people walking about, enjoying the day. He winced when he saw the number of couples with their young toddlers congregated at the park, though he relaxed slightly when he saw that the area around the oak tree was empty.

He quickly made his way to the designated area, managing to avoid most people, though if looks could kill, judging by the protective glares coming from all the young parents, Harry would have been a smoking pile of glop on the pavement five seconds in.

Fortunately, their looks _couldn't_ kill, though Harry could feel them burning through the back of his T-shirt. He felt immensely relieved as he reached the relative sanctuary of the old oak, and sighed as he sat down, leaning against the broad, scratchy trunk.

The leaves rustled in the branches above him. He barely had time to wonder if it was a squirrel, or maybe Hedwig, before Sheridan clambered down from the top of the tree to a low branch just by Harry's head. "Hey, Harry!" he said cheerfully. "Wow, you look really different in proper lighting, you know that?"

Harry, startled by the Muggle teen's sudden appearance, stared at him for a moment before grinning. "So d'you," he replied. He did, too. Shi's hair was a strange, white/silver hue, not white blond at all, as Harry had thought. His golden eyes twinkled with fun in his pale face, several still-healing scratches and bruises visible.

"Really?" Shi asked, sounding interested. "Cool. Hey, why was everyone giving you the evil eyeball on your way over? It was freaky."

Harry's mind was totally blank for a moment before he realized what Shi was talking about. "Oh! Um, that. Yeah, well … my aunt and uncle kind of put it around that I'm a dangerous criminal or hooligan or something, so people around here … don't like me much." Harry's voice trailed off as he wondered despondently what he was going to tell Sheridan as to _why_ his aunt and uncle had done that.

"Why would they do somethin' like that?" Shi asked, his US accent becoming slightly more pronounced in his confusion.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know," he mumbled, though he knew perfectly well that Sheridan was not about to drop the subject that easily.

Sure enough … "But that doesn't make _sense_!" Shi protested, eyebrows drawing together as he frowned. "Why would they wan' _everyone _t'hate you?"

Harry shrugged again. "I don't know, okay?" he said impatiently, the reply coming out sharper than intended.

If Sheridan noticed his sharp tone, he gave no indication. "Huh. Your relatives 'r crazier'n _mine_, Harry. No wonder y'hate it here."

Relief flooded through Harry as he realized that Sheridan wasn't going to question him further. "Yeah, they're pretty mental," he agreed with complete sincerity.

Shi snorted. "That's puttin' it lightly," he countered, twisting around so he was straddling the thick branch on which he was perched.

Harry chuckled as he wondered if Shi realized that people were giving _him_ strange looks, too. Sheridan _did_ look a bit like a punk, he had to admit, with his extremely long hair, ripped jeans, and black T-shirt. Harry had never really noticed that before, however, and it didn't bother him. He knew Shi wasn't a punk, just uncaring about the way he dressed.

"Harry?" Shi waved a hand in front of the green-eyed boy's face, jerking him back to the present. "You okay? Y'looked like you were off on the moon for a minute there."

Harry batted the waving hand away from his face. "Nah, more like Pluto," he joked good-naturedly. "I'm back now, sorry."

Sheridan smirked slightly. "Mmm-hmm," he said in a knowing manner.

"What?" Harry asked, confused.

"Nothing!" Shi insisted, widening his eyes innocently.

"What is it?" Harry insisted, slightly annoyed.

Sheridan grinned and said in a sing-song voice, "Harry's got a girlfriend, Harry's got a _girl_friend!"

"Shi! I do _not_!" Harry exclaimed as the Muggle teen began to laugh, rocking back and forth atop his branch.

"Who is it?" Sheridan persisted, golden eyes twinkling with the promise of mischief.

"_No one_!" Harry insisted, grinning in spite of himself. Around them, people were staring curiously at the laughing pair – that Potter boy and the strange foreigner. Neither of them noticed as Sheridan continued to tease, and Harry continued to deny.

"Okay, what _were_ you thinking about, then?" Sheridan finally asked.

"You," Harry said truthfully. He _had _been, after all.

Shi looked startled. "Oh. Okay. What about me?" He lowered himself until he was lying on the branch, chin resting on his hands, staring intently at Harry.

Harry shrugged. "I dunno. How all these people keep staring at you like you're a punk, or someone dangerous, and you're really not. I guess."

Sheridan didn't reply, just blinked and kept on staring at him.

Harry squirmed. "What?" he asked.

Sheridan kept staring.

"What!" Harry insisted. Shi's mouth quirked upwards as the teen fought to withhold a smile. Suddenly, he broke out laughing, Harry joining in as he recognized the staring game for what it was. Shi laughed so hard that he fell off his branch and hit the ground with a "thud." He yelped in pain as he landed on his right arm.

Harry's laughter died away as he looked at his friend in concern. "You okay?" he asked, worried.

Shi nodded quickly, picking himself up. "Yeah, I'm fine," he said hurriedly. "Just startled."

Harry raised an eyebrow, unconvinced.

"Look, I'm _fine._ See?" Sheridan insisted, waving his hands about and turning a cartwheel. Harry chuckled and decided to let the matter drop – for the moment.

"What's your godfather's name?" Shi asked suddenly out of the blue, sounding rather curious.

Harry hesitated, then said "Sirius … Jameson," giving him the first name that popped into his head.

Shi nodded. "Cool name. What's he like?"

Harry shrugged – the subject of his godfather was rather painful at the moment. "He's lots of fun," he finally settled on.

Sheridan was silent for a while. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, though – more of a thoughtful, friendly silence.

"Did you have any friends … back in America?" Harry asked finally.

Sheridan looked surprised, and thoughtful. "No, not really …well, _yeah,_ one person, Sam … her real name was Samantha, but no one ever called her that. She was … I think she was a little messed up – at home, I mean - but she was alright. She thought I was raving mad, but she put up with me, anyways. She was the only one, though." His voice was very quiet as he spoke.

"Oh," Harry replied quietly. He couldn't _imagine_ a life without Ron and Hermione, Ginny and the twins, Remus and Sirius, Neville and Dean and, yeah, even Seamus. His friends kept him sane … when they were around, anyways.

Now, it was Sheridan who was, in a sense, upholding Harry's sanity. Sheridan, who wasn't exactly what you'd call sane to begin with. The sheer irony was in no way lost on Harry, not at all.

They chatted for a long while about nothing in particular – Harry's friends (who were they, what were they like), had Harry ever ridden in a motorcycle (yes, but he couldn't remember), what was the most boring book in the world (Sheridan thought it was "The History and Social Influence of the Potato". Harry thought it was Webster's Dictionary, but Shi insisted that dictionary's were great fun when used properly), and had Harry ever climbed a tree before? Harry admitted that he hadn't (somehow he didn't think that being stuck in a car being smashed by the Whomping Willow counted), and so Shi set about showing him how.

The rest of the day passed much like that. They wandered over to an ice-cream truck at one point, and had a contest over who could come up with the most disgusting concoction and then eat it. Sheridan won, hands down – Harry had _no idea_ how the Muggle teen had managed to choke down that disgusting … _thing._ The young wizard was ready to swear in front of the Ministry of Magic that the glop was _moving_. Shi insisted it tasted like peppermint-y chocolate, and even offered Harry a bite. Needless to say, the green-eyed boy squeamishly refused.

Later on, as the crowd in the park gradually thinned, Shi insisted on showing Harry how to do a cartwheel. It didn't succeed in that attempt, but they both had a great deal of fun, even though Harry spent more time face-down in the grass than up in the air. By the end of the day, both their clothes were covered in grass stains. Eyeing his attire doubtfully, Harry wondered if Petunia would even let him into the house.

Dudley's gang had passed by once. Dudley, upon seeing Harry, paled and started to turn away, but the rest of his gang had already spotted their favorite scapegoat, Harry, and the freaky foreigner, and were already headed towards the pair, making cat-calls and rude jeers. Dudley had no choice but to follow, or risk loosing face with his gang.

"Hey!" shouted a pinch-faced boy, Perkins, strolling at the head of the gang. He sneered at the two shorter boys, Harry glaring angrily and Sheridan raising an eyebrow mockingly. "Why don't you two love-birds retire? We don't wanna haf'ta watch a couple of fucking queers making out!"

Before Harry had a chance to explode and unleash his temper upon the boys, Shi calmly stepped forwards and casually flipped Perkins off. "My, my, such language," he said in a condescending tone. "Go fuck yourself, why don't you? Can't a guy have friends without shit-heads like you freakin' out?" Shi's light US accent, growing thicker, heavier, and harder to understand with each word he uttered, betrayed his mounting anger, though his face and tone remained as calm as ever.

Perkins blanched, not knowing what to do. Nobody _ever_ talked back to him, ever, especially when he was backed by Dudley. But this guy had seriously mouthed off to him, and given him the finger besides! Perkins was momentarily at a loss.

Dudley, however, was not. He realized that Harry could not do magic – not here, out in the open, in front of Sheridan. So he took advantage, glad of this opportunity to get revenge on his hated cousin.

"Sure, a "gah cahn hayve freands"," he scoffed in an exaggerated mockery of Sheridan's now-heavy accent. "But you two sure aren't!"

The gang encircled them, raising their fists ominously. Harry was about to step in when he glanced at Sheridan, and saw the dangerous fires dancing in the silver-haired teen's eyes. He sensed that to barge in now would _not_ be a good idea, and he reluctantly backed down.

Sheridan bared his teeth in a frightening grimace, showing off sharp, over-large canines. "I don't know _where_ y'get your nerve," he snarled, "but I'm advisin' yah t'_back off_ b'fore I _hurt someone_."

If the dangerous tone did not convince the gangsters, the serious threat and the terrifying glare in Sheridan's hardened gold eyes did. Perkins nervously backed away. "I-I… we should go," he stammered. "This guy's psycho!"

Dudley nodded, blood draining from his large face. "Yeah … yeah," he agreed. "Let's go." The look on that guy's face was – there was no other word to describe it – _feral._

As the gang hastened away, Sheridan suddenly relaxed – his fists unclenched, his stance relaxed, and his eyes returned to their normal, honeyed hue once more. He stared after Dudley and his posse for a moment before turning back to Harry, mumbling, "Good thing they left."

"Why?" Harry asked. He'd never seen Shi act like … _that._ As wild, as fierce, as _feral_ as that. And, truth to tell, it shook him more than a little, this darker side of his normally easy-going friend.

Shi passed a hand over his face, as if brushing away a cloud, before replying, "Because I woulda hurt them, I think." When Harry waited for him to continue, he sighed. "Sometimes, I … I just get outta hand. No warning or anythin', I'm just suddenly … I dunno, _dangerous._"

Harry attempted a wan grin. "Everybody has their breaking point," he said in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.

Shi shook his head. "Nah … normally, if they'd done that, I woulda just flipped 'em off, told 'em t'go away. But I was this close" he held up his thumb and index finger, nearly touching, to demonstrate, "t'beatin' 'em within an inch of their lives." He suddenly grinned at Harry. "I have a mental disorder! Isn't that _great_?"

He said it with so much enthusiasm that Harry couldn't help but grin. Sheridan could joke about just about anything, it seemed. Trust the teen to be excited over the fact that he apparently had a rather severe mental disorder.

Besides that interruption, however, the two managed to have a great time.

At the end of the day, as the shadows steadily lengthened, both were forced to admit that it was time to part ways. They were very reluctant to say goodbye.

"Well … bye," Harry finally said, after standing in awkward silence for over a minute.

"Yeah … bye," Shi replied, looking very unhappy; rather like how Harry was feeling.

"I … well …" Harry, fumbling, finally extended his hand awkwardly.

Sheridan stared at Harry's hand blankly for a moment before taking it in his own and shaking it energetically. A smile tugged at the edges of his mouth. "Well, Mr. Potter," he said in a failing attempt at a posh British accent, "I do hope to see you again."

Harry grinned slightly as he replied, "Likewise, Mr. …" he trailed off as he realized that he had no idea what Sheridan's last name was.

"Parker, my good chap," Shi offered, false accent growing worse by the minute.

"Mr. Parker," Harry agreed. "A pleasure, really, don't know how I would have gotten through the summer otherwise." He managed the formal English accent much better than Shi was.

"Likewise, my good fellow!" Shi exclaimed, a full-fledged smile now spread across his face. "Well, pip-pip, cheerio and all that, wot?"

Harry snorted incredulously. "See ya," he replied to the ludicrous statement, waving as he began the long walk home. Sheridan waved back, calling "See ya around!" Harry kept looking back over his shoulder and waving until he turned the corner and Sheridan was out of sight.

A weight seemed to settle in Harry's stomach as he neared number four, Privet Drive. Instead of trying to banish it, Harry ignored it – he'd been walking around with a similar weight of worry all summer. It wasn't hard to disregard it – Harry had had a lot of practice.

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A/N: Err ... yeah. Gets _much _more interesting next chapter, if anyone's interested. 

Special thanks go to **Gloomy Goddess** and **HappyBunnyBoi** for being interested enough to review!

Remember: **REVIEW. Or I _will_ remove this fic.**

_>>>>>>"Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards." _–Soren Kierkegaard >>>>>>

Review? Please ...?


	5. A Wizardly Coinkadink

A/N: WHOOOOO-HOOOOO! A review! A review! I _finally_ got a review! Huzzah! Thank you so much, **Shedoc**! Please review again!

Ahem. Okay. Fifth chappie, everyone! Oh, and on top of everything else I don't own, I don't own the bookstore "Critters and Crooks". It is a real bookstore in Virginia, in Richmond, and is the best bookstore on the face of the planet- if you like fantasy, dragons, and mysteries, that is.**

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**Chapter 5: A Wizardly"Coinkadink"**

The next morning found Harry in the stuffy back seat of his uncle Vernon's new car. Vernon had threatened him with painful death if he wrecked the interior of the car, which was real leather and very expensive. Harry wasn't frightened of the large Muggle man, but wrecking the car wouldn't get him to Diagon Alley. Besides, he wasn't really in the mood to taunt his uncle anyways.

The silence in the car was so hostile and stifling that Harry was nearly choking as they pulled up to the address he had requested – just outside a bookstore named "Critters and Crooks".

"This the place?" Vernon asked gruffly as Harry clambered out of the car.

"Yeah, thanks," Harry replied absently, gathering his knapsack full of letters, his list of books, and a bag of wizard money. He knew his uncle couldn't see the dingy pub, squeezed in-between a post office and a bookstore, with a creaky sign that read "The Leaky Cauldron". Most Muggles couldn't.

Ignoring his uncle, who was pulling out of the cramped alley as fast as he could, Harry made right for the pub, wondering as he did if the Muggles passing by saw him walking into the bookstore or the post office. It was the kind of question Sheridan would have asked …

Harry halted mid-thought. Shi was a whole _world away_ now. Thoughts of the Muggle teen did not belong here.

So decided, Harry entered the pub, waving a greeting to old Tom at the bar, who grinned his toothless grin at the young wizard. Harry shouldered his way through the crowd of patrons to the back room. He pulled his wand from a side pocket of his knapsack and tapped it on the brick wall, which opened into the familiar hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley. Now, however, the busy nature of the street was muted by an undercurrent of fear, uncertainty, and apprehension.

The crowd immediately enveloped Harry as he made his way through the street, not really headed in any direction, though he planned on ending up at the bookstore. The hum of a hundred voices wove through the air, talking, trading, bartering, selling, and most of all, whispered conversations about strange happenings and disappearances. Harry noticed that large purple posters issued from the Ministry covered most of the shop windows; lists of escaped Death Eaters, instructions on how to keep safe, advisory for traveling in the open. After glancing at them, Harry concluded that they weren't much help at all and decided to ignore them, concentrating instead on filling his head with the hum of a thousand conversations.

"The best potions supplies you'll ever find! …"

"Did you hear about that latest Muggle attack? …"

"Have you heard about the Thornbys? … Yes, vanished …"

"Ministry's going down the drain, don't know _what_ Fudge is doing …"

The noise washed over Harry as he wandered to and fro. Suddenly, someone tugged at his shirt-sleeve, asking "Hey, d'you know where the bookstore is ..?"

Turning, Harry was about to reply when his jaw dropped open, hitting the ground with a faint "thud". Facing him, the stranger's mouth dropped open as well in disbelief.

See, the stranger wasn't _really_ a stranger.

He was Sheridan, standing in the middle of Diagon Alley, holding a battered map and creased Hogwarts letter, with a wand shoved into his jean pocket.

They gawked at each other for a long moment, flabbergasted. Then, Sheridan blinked his golden eyes and burst into howling laughter. Harry, after another stunned moment, joined in.

When they were both able to speak once more, Shi gasped, "Oh … dear … _Merlin_! We're both wizards, and we … we …" he nearly collapsed laughing, "we didn't know it!"

"All that dancing around I did," Harry groaned, still laughing. "I can't believe it!"

"Neither can I!" Shi agreed, clutching his sides as the hilarity of the situation continued to hit him.

After they had both calmed down a bit, they headed towards the bookstore, chatting animatedly.

"So you're going to Hogwarts?"

"Yep! My parents went there, y'know … Mom was in Ravenclaw, Dad was a Hufflepuff. They want me to take _my_ NEWTS here as well, so here I am."

"D'you play any Quidditch?"

"Some … I'm not a real die-hard player, s'more of a hobby, really. I _love_ flying, though …"

"I'm the Gryffindor Seeker, I play a lot."

"You're in Gryffindor? That's the house _I_ want t'be in!"

"Really?"

"Well, _yeah_ … I'm not ambitious or particularly brilliant with schoolwork, and I avoid hard work whenever I can. And I'm told I lack common sense … and I _like_ griffins!"

"We're the _lions_ …"

"Yeah, them too!"

"What year are you going to be in, then?"

"Umm … well, I'm going into eleventh grade this year … sooo, I think that makes me sixth. Yeah, sixth year!"

"That's the year I'm in!"

"Really? Cool!" Sheridan laughed, his golden eyes twinkling in sheer delight. "Merlin, I thought I wouldn't see you 'til next June! Talk about your strange coinkadinks, eh?"

"_Coinkadinks_?" Harry snorted – he'd never heard "coincidence" pronounced that way before.

"Yah – y'know, strange occurrences, twist of fate, ironic destiny?" Shi offered, attempting to translate.

"Yeah, I know what it means," Harry explained. "I've just never heard it pronounced that way."

Shi shrugged. "Hey, I'm the crazy American, remember?"

"That's certainly true," Harry mumbled, drawing a grin from the silver-haired teen.

"Anyway, are you meeting your godfather here or something? My parents are fed up with me, so they're dumping me on this old dude for the rest of the summer. Said it would be easier for them if I went with him, under the … the circumstances." He mumbled the last sentence incoherently before continuing with his usual energy, "Some old guy named … Dumbledore, that's it, Dumbledore. I'm supposed to meet him at some ice cream shop 'round four. I think he's a bit odd, according to my dad …"

Harry stared at his friend blankly for a moment before the statement registered properly in his brain. Suddenly, it clicked. "You're _what!_" Harry demanded.

Sheridan looked startled. "Umm … I'm staying with some old headmaster dude named Dumbledore for the rest of the summer?" he repeated carefully, looking rather wary.

Harry burst out into incredulous laughter. Shi, understandably, looked absolutely lost. Noticing the slightly injured look on Shi's face, Harry quenched his mirth and attempted to explain;

"Y-you're spending the summer at my godfather's place!" he exclaimed.

Sheridan, if anything, looked even more confused. "But I thought your godfather's name was Sirius Jameson…?" he asked helplessly.

"No…yes, but … oh, bugger!" Harry sighed. "This is going to take a bit of explaining …"

"Explain away!" Shi offered cheerfully.

"No, I can't … not here …" Harry replied, frustrated. "Look, just believe me when I say that you, me, and my friends will all be living in the same place for the rest of the summer."

Sheridan blinked once, twice in stunned disbelief, then said in a wondering tone, "I take it back. Coincidence and luck have _nothing_ to do with it. This _has_ to be orchestrated by some higher power."

"Like Albus Dumbledore?" Harry mumbled to himself, but Sheridan somehow caught it.

"Nah, more like _fate _or somethin', if you believe in that sorta thing," he corrected languidly.

Harry was about to reply "Not really," when he remembered the prophecy he'd discovered in the Department of Mysteries a month and a half ago. The prophecy that stated that Harry would have to either become a murderer, or be murdered in turn.

No, Harry believed in fate all too well.

He settled on a shrug and a casual "I suppose." Shi seemed to accept the answer, for he moved on. Or at least, he allowed _Harry _to move on.

"What subjects are you taking?" Harry asked, curious as well as desperate to change the subject.

Sheridan shrugged casually. "The normal slew of things – Potions, Transfiguration, all that sorta stuff. I'm looking forwards to Care of Magical Creatures, actually – we don't have a lot of places to keep magical critters in Virginia, or the rest of America, for that matter … my mom wanted me to take Divination, carry on the good family name … personally, I think the whole subject's a bunch of crackpots."

"It is," Harry agreed whole-heartedly, remembering his times in the stuffy Divination classroom. "We'll either have Trelawney or Firenze the centaur teaching it this year … glad I'm well clear of it …" When Sheridan looked at him quizzically, Harry shrugged. "Last year was kind of … complicated," he said, not really sure how to explain it.

But Sheridan pressed, and so Harry did his best to explain the frustrating power struggle of last year between Dumbledore, the Ministry, and the ever-horrid Dolores Umbridge, without mentioning Voldemort. Harry really had no idea how much Shi knew about the whole war, though obviously not too much, as the teen had not recognized Harry as a wizard. But then, he was from America and had only moved to Europe recently, after all.

When Harry mentioned Umbridge, and her campaign against half-bloods, Shi frowned. "Umbridge …" he said thoughtfully. "She didn't want me comin' to Hogwarts. Put up a nasty fuss an' all. Don't like her much, looks like a toad to me."

Harry's eyes widened. "Huh … I wonder why she didn't want you here," he mused, troubled. Then again, yet another reason to despise that horrible woman …

Sheridan looked rather uncomfortable all of a sudden. "I dunno why …" he mumbled. Harry had a feeling that that answer was no more truthful than his own when he had said he had no idea why the Dursleys made him out to be a criminal.

At that moment, however, they arrived at the bookstore, deflecting Harry's thoughts. "Here we are," the black-haired boy proclaimed. Shi grinned. "Books! Yay!" Noticing Harry's amused glance, the honey-eyed wizard defended himself, "Hey, I like books!" Harry shook his head, chuckling, as he led the way into the store.

They quickly found the books on their lists, and Shi found a detailed lunar chart on sale for half–price which he immediately bought, while Harry bought an eagle-feather quill that was, apparently, a collectable. The silvery-haired teen also had a great time swinging back and forth on the rolling ladders attached to the bookcases, until the cashier, Madam Derrince, hurried over and insisted he stop. Shi obliged, but grinned impishly the entire time.

After that, they wandered over to Ollivanders because Sheridan needed his wand checked, and Harry didn't have anything particularly pressing to do until four, so he tagged along.

As they entered, Harry glanced about the musty shop. The interior had not changed in the slightest in the six years since he had been there. The precarious stacks of wand boxes were perhaps rearranged, but everything else, from the spindly chair to the single, dusty wand in the window, was exactly the same.

Mr. Ollivander suddenly appeared from behind one of the many rows of wands, his silvery eyes wide in his face as he greeted his customers. "Mr. Potter!" he cried in his dry, rusty voice. "A pleasure, as always … and Mr. …?"

"Sheridan Parker," Shi offered, grinning. "I just came here from America."

Mr. Ollivander's face immediately brightened with interest. "America, hmm? Land of the feathered serpents, correct?"

"Yeah … they're endangered," Sheridan admitted. Mr. Ollivander waved a wrinkled hand dismissively.

"Yes, yes, yes. Now, your wand? I assume you need it checked."

Sheridan dug into a deep pocket of his jeans and produced a slender wand, its wood a deep, rich color with slight golden highlights. Mr. Ollivander inspected it meticulously, face happily absorbed with the novelty of an American-made wand.

"Heartwood?" he suddenly shot at Sheridan, who nodded, looking impressed. Mr. Ollivander nodded absently as he continued. "Ten and a half inches, fairly sturdy … and the core is …" he stopped and frowned, puzzled.

"A fire-griffin feather," Shi supplied helpfully.

Mr. Ollivander blinked, surprise written across his ancient features. "A fire griffin?" he repeated. Sheridan nodded. "Unique to the North American continent, I believe," he said to himself, looking extremely interested. "Well, this wand is in fine working order." He handed it back to Sheridan, who pocketed it once more and handed the shopkeeper a handful of Sickles.

Afterwards, the two wandered aimlessly from store to store, mostly window-shopping, chatting about the differences in European and American brands. Harry refilled his Potions supplies, and Sheridan picked up some quills and ink, shaking his head incredulously as he did so. ("We use _pens_ in America. Normal, practical, every-day _pens_.") They both loitered in the Quidditch supplies shop, admiring the brooms. America had different styles and brands of brooms than England – Shi owned a Silver Comet, which was fast and "wicked maneuverable," according to the teen. Shi was extremely loyal to his broom, even to the point of refusing to admit that a Firebolt might be a better broom. They then engaged in a lively conversation comparing the better points of various broomsticks, the highlights of Quidditch, and which team they rooted for. (Harry "rooted" for the Chudley Cannons, thought he was pretty much neutral. Sheridan rooted for an American team, the Dire Wolves.) This debate lasted them the rest of the day.

They wandered into the ice-cream shop fifteen minutes before four o'clock, so they both ordered sundaes to pass the time. Sheridan insisted on knowing more about who they would be staying with, as his parents hadn't told him anything besides where to go, so Harry told him more about Hermione, Ron and the Weasleys, Remus, and a little bit about Sirius. Not much, though – Harry's worries for his godfather were an ever-present gnawing pain in his stomach.

"So, Remus used to be the Dark Arts teacher?" Shi asked around a mouthful of strawberry-and-mint ice-cream. "He sounds like he was pretty good. Why was he fired?"

"It got out that he was a werewolf," Harry responded automatically. Almost immediately, he regretted it, however. Remus hadn't given him permission to tell someone the former professor hadn't even _met_ yet, and Harry didn't know how Shi felt about werewolves.

He needn't have worried. "Geez, is that all? What a stupid reason to fire a good teacher," Shi exclaimed indignantly. "Werewolf prejudice _is_ pretty bad in England, isn't it? Not that it's not in America, but you can't _fire_ someone because of it!"

Harry nodded in fervent agreement, relieved. "Yeah, it's _horrible_. Umbridge managed to pass a decree that's making it nearly _impossible_ for Remus to find a job. He even had to work in a Muggle record store for a while, but his boss couldn't give him enough off days to … accommodate."

Sheridan growled, a low, frustrated sound deep in his throat. "People are such _idiots_," he muttered, jamming a spoonful of strawberry-and-mint ice-cream into his mouth. Swallowing quickly, he looked straight at Harry and seemed to be debating on whether or not he should tell the raven-haired boy something.

Before Harry could ask what the matter was, an old wizard tottered over to their table, a maroon scarf wrapped around his head.

"Wotcher, Harry," the wizard muttered as "he" leaned over the table, winking. "And you must be Sheridan," the "old man" added, turning to the confused teen. Shi nodded, glancing at Harry with a "who is this?" look on his face.

"This is Tonks – Metamorphmagus," Harry muttered to him under his breath. Tonks nodded cheerfully.

"Good to see you two have met," she continued in a bare whisper. "Moony wants us to Floo home, so …" in a louder voice, she added, "Could you two young'uns assist an old man to the nearest fireplace?"

Harry got up and motioned Shi to follow. Shi, looking utterly confused, nonetheless obliged, much to Harry's relief.

They made their way to a nearby stall full of fireplaces purely for Floo purposes. Handing five Knuts to the watch-wizard, Tonks tossed a handful of the glittering green powder into the flames and motioned the two boys into the fireplace before following. "Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place," she muttered clearly, ignoring the soot that tickled Harry's throat and sent Shi into coughing spasms. With a flaming roar of wind and a dizzying fall, the three found themselves in the large main hallway fireplace in number twelve, Grimmauld Place.

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A/N: Well ... yeah. Hope all you silent people enjoy. We'll be getting more into Sheridan's actual character soon ... oh, and about the fire-griffin thing, I figure, America has different animals than England, right? Hence the Aztec feathered serpents and other things. Fire-griffins are actually pretty common - that's the _real_ reason Ben Franklin invented volunteer fire companies. 

"_Sometimes I feel like I'm diagonally parked in a parallel universe." _–Anonymous

REVIEW OR I SHALL BOIL YOU ALL IN PICKLE JUICE AND EAT YOU IN A GARLIC STEW.


	6. Homecoming

A/N: Well, sixth chapter is here at last! And some special thanks to my lovely reviewers (I got _two_ this time! So happy.):

**shedoc:** Well, actually, the Aztecs (as well as the Incas, Olmecs, Mayas, and anyone else who had the serpents) stretched from around Central America (aka Mesoamerica) to the southern part of North America, so it's only natural that some of them, if endangered, migrated to around Mexico and Texas. In my mind, that is. Hope you like Ron and Hermione's reactions!

**Ravenrose:** Yaaayyy! I'm so glad I aroused your interest. Please keep reviewing, cuz reviews keep me going! (The story gets significantly better from here on out, in my opinion.)

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**Chapter 6: Homecoming**

Tonks quickly stepped out of the large fireplace, shaking the soot and ashes from her clothes as she morphed back into her "relatively normal" form. Harry looked about the dim, dusty house, gloomy memories momentarily threatening to overwhelm him, before turning back to Sheridan, who was still hacking coughs because of all the soot.

"You okay?" Tonks asked, brushing soot out of her cropped, electric-blue hair. Sheridan nodded, trying to stifle his coughing as Harry banged him on the back several times. "Got a mouthful," he managed in-between coughs.

Tonks winced sympathetically. "So, you two met?" she asked Harry, sounding interested. "I need something to occupy myself for a bit, until I take Kingsley's shift."

Shi, who had finally stopped coughing, spoke up. "Actually, there's a funny story behind that - " he coughed once more, and added, "and Harry better tell, cuz (cough) for once, I can't talk."

Harry rolled his eyes at his friend as Tonks led them to the basement kitchen. His face brightened in startled surprise before his vision was blocked by a mass of ginger and bushy-brown hair as the three occupants of the kitchen practically leaped on him, yelling "Harry! Harry! You're back, you're here!"

Finally managing to disentangle himself Ron, Ginny, and Hermione, Harry grinned at them all and replied, "It's wonderful to see you guys!"

The three looked distinctly relieved at his cheerful reply. Last summer, Harry had been "less than pleased" upon arriving after spending half the summer with the Dursleys. "Likewise, mate," Ron responded energetically. The red-head had shot up in height over the last month and a half or so – his hands and feet were now the correct size in relation to the rest of his body. Ginny, who was in the middle of eating a bowl of oatmeal for some reason, seemed to be growing her hair out – it was distinctly longer than when Harry had last seen her.

"Who's that?" Hermione asked curiously, indicating Shi, who had sat himself down on a nearby stool and was surveying the room with an air of interested curiosity.

"That's Sheridan," Harry replied, grinning. "He's just moved here from America."

"Are your parents part of the Order?" Ginny asked the newcomer, interested.

"I think so … I think they're spies or something …" Shi replied, sounding vaguely unsure.

"Oh, I'm so rude!" Ginny suddenly exclaimed. "Hello, Sheridan, I'm Ginny Weasley. This is my big brother, Ron, and Hermione."

"Hello!" Shi chirped, smiling at them all.

"Your parents are spies?" Ron repeated incredulously, ignoring the introductions more or less.

"Err …" Shi began. "I … think so … I don't know a lot about this war …"

"Well, tell us what you do know, and we'll fill in the blanks," Hermione offered sensibly. If his parents were in the Order, than he could be trusted.

Sheridan blinked before saying "Umm … oookaaay. This dude, Vol … Voldie … Volda … Voldemort, that's it! Anyway, Voldemort," the silver-haired teen ignored Ginny and Ron's instinctual flinches at his mention of the Dark Lord's name, "he recently came back from … the dead … or something like that …" he glanced about the room for conformation. Harry nodded. "Something like that," he agreed.

"And he has followers – "Death Eaters", I think they're called – really stupid name, actually, why would anyone want to eat death? I mean, it must taste pretty nasty …" Shi halted his sudden rambling as Harry cleared his throat pointedly. "Sorry … and something about Sirius Black, who's innocent … but everyone thought he was guilty of … of something. And ol' Voldy-butt's after the, uh, Boy-Who-Lived … some dude named, I dunno, Harold Porter or something …"

At this last statement, everyone stared at Sheridan for a stunned moment. Then, Ginny choked on her oatmeal, Ron, Harry, and Tonks nearly collapsed, howling with laughter, and Hermione shouted at them, "It's not _funny_! He's from America, of _course_ he didn't know!", though she was struggling to keep from laughing herself.

"What?" Sheridan demanded. "_What_!" He turned, looking slightly exasperated, to Harry, who was clutching his sides from laughing so hard. "What in the name of Merlin is so funny!"

Tonks, the first to get her breath back, explained, "The Boy-Who-Lived … his name is H-H- … _Harry Potter_!" This, of course, set her off again.

"But …" Shi looked absolutely blank for the space of about five seconds, and then it clicked.

Being Sheridan, instead of groaning or shouting or hitting his head against the table, he merely threw back his head and howled with laughter at his own stupidity.

After the room began to calm down, more-or-less formal introductions made their rounds and, at Tonks and Ginny's insistence, the strange tale of Harry and Sheridan's friendship was told, which predictably sent everyone off into paroxysms of laughter once more. Ginny, Ron, and Hermione all immediately took a liking to the energetic and quirky young American wizard, and were thrilled to learn that he would be entering Hogwarts that year.

"D'you play any Quidditch?" Ron asked after a while, seeking some common ground with the former wizard. Shi responded with an energetic 'yes', and so the boys plus Ginny were off and running with the topic. Hermione and Tonks rolled their eyes as they proceeded to chat amongst themselves while the other four bonded with the newest of their number through a shared passion for the noble sport of Quidditch.

The conversation continued along this path for a time, until, with a loud "POP!", Remus Apparated into the midst of the kitchen, looking tired and worn, although his face brightened noticeably upon seeing Harry.

"Hi, Remus!" Ron, Hermione, Harry, and Ginny chorused. "Did you get the job?" Hermione added, sounding hopeful.

The weariness returned to the former professor's frame. "No," he sighed. "Or the one after that, or the one after that." He slumped into a nearby chair and attempted a wan grin. "I am still officially jobless."

The whole room sighed, feeling rather discouraged about the whole business. Remus, glancing upwards, greeted Harry with a smile. "Good to see you again, Harry. And who's this?"

Sheridan offered his hand, grinning simply because. "Sheridan Parker. Just came in from America. Seems I live near Harry – we met and didn't realize we were both wizards 'til we saw each other in Diagon Alley!"

Remus blinked, surprised by both Shi's exuberant manner and the rather improbable statement that had accompanied it. "Dear Merlin," he replied. "I didn't know coincidences like that existed."

Shi shrugged in a sort of 'ah-well,-that's-the-way-the-world-works' manner. "So, I take it you're Remus?"

Remus nodded. "Yes, I'm Remus Lupin," he answered amiably. "I take it _you_ are Diana and Robert's son."

Shi blinked, surprise written across his face. "Yeah …" he said, his voice strangely expressionless. "D'you know them?"

Remus nodded once again. "Yes, they were part of the Order last time – they were very helpful as spies in the Ministry, until they were found out, of course. We ultimately had to relocate them to America, as you may have gathered."

"Cool." Shi's face didn't reflect any of his typical interest of anything that struck him as "cool", however.

Suddenly, there was a slight clatter outside the kitchen door, and a young girl with dark brown hair about Ginny's age stumbled in. "Dratted umbrellas – oh, hallo!" she exclaimed, surprised, as she noticed Harry and Sheridan. "Who're – oh, you're Harry Potter, aren't you," she continued, indicating Harry, looking distinctly surprised. "But who're you?" This time, she turned in Sheridan's direction.

"I could ask you the same question," Shi replied good-naturedly.

Laughing slightly, Hermione introduced them. "Harry, Sheridan -" "Shi," the silver-haired teen corrected her; "-this is Sara Stanton," Hermione continued, ignoring Shi's interruption. "She and Professor Stanton, her mom, have just moved here from Ireland. Her mother's the new Dark Art's teacher." Sara grinned and waved at the newcomers, adding "I'm going into fifth year with Ginny!"

Turning, Hermione continued, "Sara, this is Harry, who we told you about, and Sheridan, who just moved here from America."

"Wonderful to meet you all," Sara informed them, shaking first Harry's hand, then Shi's. Then, turning to Ginny, who had by now managed to finish her porridge, Sara proclaimed, "Ginny, Mom bought me some new stuff from the joke shops! C'mon an' see … don't tell Mrs. Weasley …"

The two then launched into a hushed conversation apparently about some way to eavesdrop on Order meetings as they hurried upstairs to Ginny's room, leaving the kitchen's occupants with the impression that a very busy hurricane had just passed through.

Remus chuckled at their reactions. "Sara's like that," he informed Harry and Shi. "Takes after her mother in that respect. You might as well get used to it."

"She's like what?" Shi asked blankly, not having noticed Sara's effect on the rest of the room in the least. This made everyone laugh – even Remus smiled, albeit tiredly. "You are going to fit right in around here," the werewolf commented, sounding slightly amused.

Sheridan blinked at the former professor. "Uh … thanks … I think …" he replied, sounding slightly unsure as to what to make of the statement.

With a loud "POP!", a slender middle-aged woman with dark, reddish-brown hair done up in a sloppy bun appeared suddenly in the middle of the kitchen, setting down several heavy shopping bags and talking loudly and briskly to the room's occupants in general.

"Remus, I've got the ingredients you needed, or was that Severus? Where's Molly, I couldn't find any poppy so I got some sesame instead, I hope that's alright. Oh, Remus, I need to ask you a few questions about my classes, could you spare a couple minutes later? Thanks, you're _wonderful_. Now where's Sara, she needs to try on these robes, she's grown so _much _since last year …"

Remus cleared his throat loudly, but when that failed to capture the woman's attention, Ron decided to speak up. "Uh, Professor Stanton," he hesitantly interrupted her long string of talk, "Harry's here. And Shi – Sheridan Parker. Professor?"

The last "Professor?" grabbed Professor Stanton's attention. "Hmm?" she said distractedly, turning about to face Ron. "Oh, hallo Ron, did you need something? The shop's not closed yet; I can always pop on back …"

"No, no," the tall red-head stuttered, ears turning rather red. "It's just Harry and Sheridan are here, and -"

"Oh!" Stanton spun around to face Harry and Shi, and beamed. She was about Remus and Sirius' age, with reddish-brown hair falling out of her sloppy bun in long wisps to frame her face, which was slender, freckled, and friendly. She had hazel eyes and a mouth that seemed to crook upwards with a perpetual half-smile. "Hallo Harry, Sheridan," she said happily. "It's _splendid_ to finally meet you two. I'm Thrennia Stanton, though I suppose I'm "Professor" to you, aren't I? I'm not used to teaching; you guys will have to tell me how I'm doing!" Her bright eyes sparkled with an energy not normally seen in professors. Harry decided then and there that he quite liked Professor Stanton. Class this year was sure to be interesting with _her_ teaching.

"Nice to meet you," he said politely, shaking her proffered hand.

"Same here," Shi added as he in turn shook her hand. She beamed at the pair of them in a welcoming fashion. "It's nice to have some new faces around here," she informed them, a slightIrish brogue coloring her voice. "Everyone gets so gloomy at times, I can't _stand_ it! I'm half tempted to whip up a Cheering Potion and force-feed it to the entire Order!" She paused, a slight wince passing over her face before she continued ruefully, "Of course, knowing my skills with Potions, I'd probably murder everyone instead …"

Ron and Harry snickered slightly, instantly imagining Snape choking on a bad Cheering Potion, whilst Sheridan laughed outright and said, "You'd have to be really bad at Potions to make a Cheering Potion deadly!"

Stanton shrugged sheepishly. "Well, I'm a cook," she offered as an explanation. Seeing the blank faces surrounding her, she clarified, "I add things – or substitute them – trying to make the potions … well, look and/or taste better. Not a good habit concerning Potions in general."

"Which is why I do _not_ allow you to experiment with my Wolfsbane Potion," Remus commented dryly, ladling some oatmeal into a bowl he'd grabbed from a pile of clean dishes.

Stanton huffed indignantly. "Well! Really, Remus, if you'd just let me have a go at it, I'm _sure_ I could have that foul stuff tasting better in _no_ time -"

"_No_," Remus cut her off firmly, his tone brooking no debate. Stanton rolled her eyes, exasperated with his stubbornness, before reaching over and dumping several more ladlefuls of oatmeal into the werewolf's bowl. "At _least_ eat a bit more," she half-commanded, half-implored. "You're getting thinner and thinner, you know." Remus looked uncomfortable, muttering that he was perfectly capable of feeding himself, as Ron and Hermione chuckled at his obvious discomfort with the Professor. Stanton ignored this as she continued; "You won't do Sirius one _whit_ of good if you become an emaciated skeleton, you know!"

The whole room flinched at her irate mention of Sirius. Stanton noticed and paused in her tirade, faint sadness falling across her face.

Sheridan looked around at all the sad faces and asked hesitantly, "Sirius? You mean … Harry's godfather?" He looked over towards Harry. He didn't say anything aloud, but hislight ambereyes asked clearly; _What happened?_

"I'll tell him – if that's … if everyone's comfortable with that," Professor Stanton offered quietly, glancing first at Remus, then at Harry for permission. The two nodded their assent – Shi had to find out sooner or later, after all, and it was painful for them to speak of Sirius.

Stanton's voice was low as she outlined to Sheridan the basic gist of what had happened, that fateful night at the Ministry – Tonks had undoubtedly told her all about it. She explained what had happened to Sirius, and finished up with the fact that Harry's godfather remained comatose, and nothing the Order or the Healers from St. Mungo's had done would wake him.

When she had finished, the room was silent, each person reflecting upon his or her own private thoughts. Finally, Harry broke the reflective silence by turning to Remus and asking, "May I … see him?"

Remus nodded, his gaze understanding. Harry followed the werewolf as he rose and led the way out of the room. Sheridan shifted but did not follow, sensing that his friend needed to be alone. He exchanged glances with Ron and Hermione, and saw that they were just as concerned as he was about Harry's stubborn depression.

Harry, meanwhile, found himself in Sirius' room. A faded red-gold rug lay on the floor that matched the red bed coverlet, lending some color into the otherwise grey and dreary room. Sirius, of course, had kept his Gryffindor pride long after leaving school.

Sirius himself lay quietly atop the bed, pale but seemingly healthy, breathing slowly as though he was merely sleeping. But he wasn't sleeping. Sleeping people, eventually, woke up.

And Sirius didn't.

Glancing once more about the room, blinking his dry eyes, Harry noticed a chair stationed beside the bed. Remus had seated himself in it with an easy, familiar motion that led Harry to guess that the former professor had spent large amounts of time there, brooding.

"I miss him," the bespectacled boy finally said, quietly. Remus looked up at him, sadly blinking his dark amber eyes.

"So do I, Harry. So do I," he murmured sadly in reply. Harry glanced away – he'd never seen Remus truly … depressed. The older man had always been in control – it was like he was intruding. "But he isn't really gone."

"It feels like he is," Harry sighed. Remus nodded his agreement, before bracing his hands upon his knees and standing. "We'd better get back downstairs," he commented, sounding rather world-weary. "Thrennia gets worried if anyone stays up here too long."

Harry nodded, his gaze once more returning to his motionless godfather before leaving the room, Remus following and shutting the door behind them.

"Can you honestly blame me?" a quiet, weary voice asked from behind them. Startled, Harry whirled about to face a sad and tired-looking Professor Stanton.

"You get so depressed, Remus, I really … really worry," she informed him quietly, looking at first the werewolf, then Harry. "I worry about _all_ of you. This war's casualties don't end with lives taken by the enemy, you know."

"I'm not going to commit suicide, and neither is Harry, if that's what you're worried about," Remus replied. He sounded slightly grateful for her concern, but mostly nettled by her mother-henning.

She grinned wanly at the two of them. "Ah, well, you'll just have to put up with me," she informed them with sudden cheeriness. "Now, come on downstairs, Molly and I are making a _proper_ dinner for once – no oatmeal tonight!"

With that, she turned and walked back down the stairs. Harry exchanged glances with Remus, who shrugged helplessly. A small grin tugged at the corners of Harry's mouth as he followed Stanton back into the kitchen, Remus trailing not far behind.

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A/N: Wheeee! Here enter my other two significant OC's! I adore Professor Stanton with all my heart, I hope you guys do, too. 

>>>>>>"_Life's not all bad. Look into somebody's eyes, you'll see that they're a person just like you; they also have good and bad feelings, hopes, and dreams." _–Anonymous>>>>>>

REVIEW. REVIEW. REVIEW.


	7. Life as Usual

A/N: A thousand and one thanks to my lovely reviewers! You guys really make my day, really. Especially **shedoc, **as she makes it a point to review often. Thanks so much, hun! You rock my socks. Yes, Stanton does come off as a little strong, but that's her personality. She's a very domineering person - I think it's about time they had an energetic DADA teacher, don't you?

Anyway ... no, I don't own "Phantom of the Opera". I'm way too young. Although I do adore it. Enjoy!

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**Chapter 7: Life As Usual**

"Whoops! Sorry, Molly, I'll get that!" Professor Stanton exclaimed, scrambling to the saucepot, which was boiling and steaming rather ominously. Mrs. Weasley rolled her eyes as she whisked her wand towards the pot, which immediately relocated itself to a cool burner. Stanton grinned sheepishly at the exasperated older woman, applying the sauce to a bowl of hot noodles.

Harry, Ron, Sheridan, and Hermione watched the two red-haired woman, exact opposites in stature, dash about, trying to create a respectable meal using two very different approaches at cooking – namely, magic and Muggle. Needless to say, the four found the whole spectacle (or should I say, debacle) rather more than slightly amusing. It didn't help that Hermione and Sheridan kept offering tips and pointers to Professor Stanton, who was experimenting with Muggle cooking and having a blast doing it. She reminded them very much of Mr. Weasley and how excited he got over Muggle gadgets, only she seemed to more or less understand what she was trying to do.

Somehow or other, Stanton and Mrs. Weasley managed to finish the meal, which turned out to be a rather complicated lasagna, just before the other members of the Order began to show up, which was a great relief to all involved.

Mundungus arrived first, and made his way into the room with his eyes closed and hands outstretched, declaring, "Lead me t'whatever is makin' that heavenly smell! Bring on the grub!" Kingsley followed close behind the criminal, his face solemn but his eyes twinkling as he saw the two triumphant women bearing the lasagna like a hard-won trophy of war. Mr. Weasley came in not long afterwards, to be embraced by his wife and greeted enthusiastically by his children, Harry, Hermione, and Sheridan.

Shi was, naturally, introduced to all and sundry, and made quite a unique impression, at least in his friend's opinions. They had all settled down to eat the wonderfully-smelling meal when Dumbledore suddenly appeared.

The headmaster looked rather more tired than the last time Harry had seen him, and with perhaps several more lines appearing on his face – but his blue eyes shone behind his half-moon glasses as he took in the cozy scene that greeted him upon entering. "Good evening, Harry, Sheridan," he greeted the two newest arrivals, a slight smile upon his face.

Harry nodded at the headmaster, his attention more for the food at the moment, while Sheridan, who had been seated between Harry and Ginny, cocked his head to the side curiously, as if sizing up the benign old man. After a moment, Shi grinned at Dumbledore. When the headmaster smiled broadly back, he seemed to pass a test, for Shi returned his attention to his steaming plateful of lasagna.

Dinner that night was noisy with talk. Several people had already vanished, and some newundercover Muggle attacks had made themselves known. The Ministry was searching for Death Eaters, but, frantic to show that they had results, they were beginning to throw people in Azkaban for the slightest indication that they may know something. Word was that Fudge was declining rapidly in popularity, and the wizarding community was demanding a new Minister of Magic – one more able to deal with the present situation. From that point, the conversation amongst the adults turned to recent Ministry politics, of which both Professor Stanton and Remus had extremely poor opinions of.

The teenagers, on the other hand, turned to more interesting subjects as soon as the mention of politics reared its ugly head. For a while, they amused themselves with talk of school and Quidditch. Sheridan kept coming up with random but interesting facts – Ginny started scribbling them down on a paper napkin after a while. (Things like "A blue whale's tongue weighs more than an elephant", and "There are more donut shops per capita in Canada than in any other country".) When Hermione asked where Shi had found all this stuff, the smaller boy had paled slightly and mumbled, "Friend I used to have in America." Hermione didn't seem to notice his discomfort, but Harry, having known himrather longer, noticed straight away. Seeing as it was in the middle of dinner, however, he decided not to pry.

After dinner, followed by a dessert of ice-cream and cookies, was finished, everyone pretty much went their separate ways. Remus left for his own room to rest, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, joined by Professor Stanton, retired to the main living room. The remainder of the Order then left for their own homes.

As Dumbledore finally stood up, he approached Sheridan and asked the teen if he might have a few private words with him. Glancing back at Ron, Harry, and Hermione, Shi shrugged and followed the headmaster into the hallway.

The other three watched as Dumbledore inclined his head towards the shorter teen, asking something. Shi shook his head, eyes fixed upon the ground, refusing to look upwards at the headmaster. Dumbledore said something else that the trio could not catch. Shi scuffed his feet, long bangs falling over his face to hide his eyes. He mumbled something, to which Dumbledore nodded, patted his shoulder in a bracing sort of way, and left. Shi stood there for a moment longer before turning and reentering the kitchen.

"What was that about?" Ron asked curiously.

Sheridan shrugged, not meeting anyone's eyes. "Just something about my parents," he replied dismissively. Ron nodded, accepting the vague answer. Harry, however, frowned, and was opening his mouth to inquire further when Mrs. Weasley called out from down the hallway, "All right! Bed! It's eleven o'clock!"

"Okay!" the four called back, as they trudged tiredly up the stairs.

Suddenly, a surprising thought struck Harry. "What happened to the portrait?" he asked, thinking of the screeching figure of Sirius' mum. Come to think of it, no one had been careful about noise all afternoon.

"Oh! Tonks burned it," Hermione informed him proudly. "It was shouting at Tonks, going on and on about blood traitors and how she hoped Sirius never woke up, and Tonks got fed up with it and set her on fire. We _finally_ got rid of the horrid thing – it's _such_ a relief."

"Well, thank goodness," Harry replied feelingly. Life in Grimmauld Place was sure to be much better without the specter of the late Mrs. Black looming over the house.

At the top of the stairs, Hermione turned to her own room. Harry found his belongings, plus Hedwig, in Ron's room, and Sheridan found his own stuff in the room beside theirs. The three exchanged tired "Good-nights," and entered their rooms.

Harry flopped onto his bed as Ron changed into pajamas. He kicked off his shoes as Ron yawned hugely and lay down on the other bed. "'Night, Harry," he yawned.

"Night, Ron," Harry replied sleepily, tugging an old T-shirt over his head. A loud snore answered him. Smiling, Harry finally drifted off to sleep.

11111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

The next morning was spent bringing Harry and Sheridan up-to-speed on everything that had happened over the summer. Bill Weasley was dating Fleur Delacour, and was planning on asking her to marry him, as Ron put it, "as soon as he gets the nerve." Charlie was planning on returning home from Romania in a month or two to start helping the Order, as he wouldn't be widely known. Most surprisingly of all, perhaps, was that Viktor Krum wished to help the Order, and would be arriving sometime in September. Hermione was ecstatic about this last bit. Harry decided that her crush over the gangly Quidditch player had not cooled in the least over the last year or so. Holding a relationship like that up would be tough, what with Hermione still in school. _But_, Harry mused wryly to himself, _if anyone can pull it off, Hermione can._

Whilst all this catching-up was going on, the four plus Ginny and Sara were busy clearing out what appeared to be an old attic storage room. Mostly all the stuff they found was old junk, useless to anyone. Things like faded wizard photographs with serious, scowling wizards and witches in formal clothing, boxes full of ancient legal documents, and chests and wardrobes chock full of old, antiquated clothing. And, of course, dust. Dust in massive quantities. The six choked, sneezed, and coughed themselves nearly into oblivion before Hermione shook out six old scarves and wrapped them about everyone's noses and mouths.

But, in fact, the whole thing eventually turned out to be really fun, thanks to an idea Sheridan had about midday. Upon discovering a huge old wardrobe, the small boy promptly shut himself inside, and managed to remain there unnoticed for roughly two minutes before he began to bang on the door. When Harry heard the bangs and let him out, Shi leaped out bedecked in an old-fashioned cape and frilly shirt. The costume was completed with a tri-cornered felt hat with a large, dusty feather.

"Ta-daa!" he cried to the startled teens, sweeping off the hat in an elaborate bow. Once he was upright, he cried, "Come look at all the neat stuff in here! It's really cool!"

The six spent a long time dressing up in ridiculous-looking get-ups, guessing as to whom the clothes had once belonged. Ron selected a formal hunting coat and hat, and when he posed in front of a dusty, cracked mirror, he looked like a young English lord come out of memory.

Ginny, Sara, and Hermione tried on numerous old dresses pulled out from dozens of old chests. Some of the more elaborate outfits required the combined efforts of all six teenagers to figure out how, exactly, to put them on. Ginny tried on one large, red dress that had faded to a light pink color that made her look like "a great circus tent," as Sara so glibly put it. Ginny discarded the dress rather quickly.

Harry, getting into the fun of the game, managed to find a heavy velvet cloak that was, unfortunately, situated next to a rather violent dressing gown that attempted to throttle him. Hermione quickly hexed the aggressive piece of clothing, and Harry retrieved the cloak with a faint sense of triumph, along with a thread-bare top hat that had been sitting atop a dressing dummy's head. Donning them both, he and Ron seemed to be a matching set of young lords out for a stroll.

Sheridan tried on several outfits before settling on a long black cape, white opera gloves, and an old, slightly cracked white opera mask. Whirling his cape about dramatically, he proclaimed, "Ware! I am the Phantom of the Opera! The dread ghost of the night!" Having thus declared himself, he swept over to Ginny, who had just managed to pull a long evening gown over her t-shirt and jeans, and cried dramatic wonder, "Ah! Fairest maiden! Such a vision of loveliness! Sing to me, oh angel of music!"

Ginny blushed madly to the roots of her red hair as he pecked her playfully on the cheek. She shoved him hard, and he easily skipped away, mischievous grin never slipping from his face. "Alas and alack!" he cried, the picture of woe. "Fair Ginevra rejects my love! How shall I live?"

Ron, rolling his eyes in exasperation, pointed at Shi and whispered loudly to Harry, "_That_ is what reading too much Shakespeare does to a person."

Harry laughed, wondering if he should point out to Ron that Phantom of the Opera wasn't a Shakespearian play, as Sheridan scowled at Ron and replied, "A challenge? En garde, villain!" He grabbed at a nearby broken curtain rod and brandished it at the tall red-head.

Ron's eyebrows climbed upwards, disappearing underneath his long red bangs, as his mouth quirked upwards in incredulous amusement. He glanced at Harry, eyes laughing, his expression clearly asking, _Is this guy for real?_

The attic door, which was situated on the floor, banged as Professor Stanton came up, poking her head into the attic. She coughed loudly from the sheer amount of dust flying about the room. "How're you guys holding out up here?" she managed, holding a hand over her nose and mouth as a shield from the dust.

"We're _fine_, Mum," Sara immediately replied, sounding slightly exasperated.

Stanton eyed their questionable attires doubtfully. "Uh-huh," she replied meaningfully. "Right. Well, I just came to give you your OWL's, so here you are." She handed them each a roll of parchment. "Now, get back to work, or I'll sic Buckbeak on you." She waved her free hand vaguely at the room as she walked back down the attic stairs.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione eagerly ripped open their OWL results. Harry, glancing at his, had to admit that it was a pretty decent turnout, though he hadn't gotten an 'O' for Potions, which meant his wish of becoming an Auror was pretty much shot. Oh, well. His parchment looked something like this:

**Astronomy: A**

**Care of Magical Creatures: E**

**Charms: E**

**Defense Against the Dark Arts: O**

**Divination: P**

**Herbology: E**

**History of Magic: D**

**Potions: E**

**Transfiguration: E**

Ron's grades were pretty much the same, with an "Exceeds Expectations" for Defense Against the Dark Arts. They had both failed Divination, but they'd always known they would, and he'd had no chance of passing History of Magic, seeing as he'd collapsed halfway through, but other than that, it was pretty good!

Hermione, as it turned out, was disappointed – she'd only gotten an "E" in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Seeing as how she'd gotten "O's" in everything else, however, Harry and Ron found it hard to feel sympathetic. Ron found her behavior exasperating, but Harry only laughed at her expression.

With a resigned sigh, they all removed their borrowed outfits, put away OWL scores, and got back to work on the disaster area otherwise known as the attic.

"Psst … Harry!" Hermione whispered after a while, startling Harry, who hadn't heard her approach. He accidentally crushed the hat he'd been trying to dust off.

"Wha-?" he asked, surprised. Why was she whispering? "What is it, Hermione?"

She said nothing, only beckoned him to follow her. Harry was confused, but obeyed, figuring she must have a good reason, being Hermione. She led him into a small room branching off from the attic, hidden by an old wardrobe and a large, faded painting of an autumn landscape. The room was filled to its creaking seams with books, what seemed like all the books in the world. Harry had never seen so many books crammed into such a small space.

He stared about, confused, as Hermione walked over to a low table with several large books lying open atop it. She picked one up, showing him the cover – "Famous Dark Magic Artifacts of the Wizarding World" – saying quietly, "I've been … researching here for the past week or so. About … about the veil." Harry's eyes snapped from their contemplation of a leaning tower of books to stare at her.

"I'm looking for something to help Sirius," she continued in a bare whisper. "But I thought … that maybe you'd like to help." She looked up at him, slightly nervous about his reaction. "It'd go faster with two people."

Harry nodded decisively – he would do anything in his power to help her if it would help Sirius. Hermione, looking immensely relieved, handed him a large book from one of the many precariously balanced stacks. Without another word, the two bent determinedly to their task.

Several days passed by in this fashion – working on cleaning the attic, Harry and Hermione leaving after a while to work in the small attic library – before the others began to wonder where Harry and Hermione got to during the afternoon. Ron thought that maybe they were sneaking off to snog in secret. Ginny and Sara disagreed when the theory was put to them, but neither of them could think of a better explanation. Shi didn't agree with Ron's assessment, either, but he was the only one who acted on his curiosity.

The following afternoon, Sheridan kept a close eye on the two 'suspects'. When the two stood up and walked off in the same direction, saying they were going to attack a wardrobe on the other side of the cluttered, maze-like attic, Shi followed them quietly.

Harry and Hermione were already deep into their research when Sheridan quietly stepped in, startling them with his sudden appearance. Their heads jerked up to see the silver-haired boy looking about the room curiously.

"So _this_ is where you guys wander off to," he commented quietly. Seeing their wary faces, he added, "Ron thought you were sneaking off to make out – I think "snogging" was the term he used." Ignoring the pair's immediate looks of incredulous disgust, he peered about the cluttered room. "What're you looking for?"

Hermione looked faintly uneasy – she found Sheridan likeable, but unpredictable. Harry, however, harbored no qualms about telling his friend what they were up to. "We're researching the veil," he said quietly. "From the Department of Mysteries. The one Si- … Sirius fell through."

They were both startled when Shi thoughtfully picked up a large book on the history dangerous magical artifacts, and asked, "Mind if I help?"

"Not at all!" they chorused, grateful for his willingness to help. The three settled down and stayed there the remainder of the day. The next day, Sara, Ginny, and Ron entered with Sheridan, and helped study on and off throughout the day. And so several more days passed by.

* * *

A/N: And so ends the latest chapter in ... err ... this really crazy fic. Hope ya'll are enjoying it! 

>>>>>>"_The time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time." _–Bertrand Russell.>>>>>>

REVIEWREVIEWREVIEWREVIEWREVIEW ...


	8. Confessions

A/N: Updates are now going to be markedly slower, as school is now in session and the workload is piling up - little to no time for writing. And, I'd also like to make an important announcement - **ALL PAIRINGS (except for the Harry/OC) CITED IN THE FIRST CHAPTER ARE NOW OFFICIALLY _WRONG_. **I have no set pairings anymore, save for the main one. My opinions have changed considerably since reading the sixth book, and right now I'm gonna go wherever this thing takes me.

Thanks again to my lovely reviewers! Hope you enjoy this!

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Chapter 8: CONFESSIONS

All six teenagers were sprawled in the attic library in various positions of relaxation, all with a book (or two) in their laps. Dusty late-afternoon sunlight hit the floor, pouring in from the one round window found high on the wall. The room was filled with a peaceful sense of serenity, the only noise being the quiet sounds of breathing, pages turning, and quills scratching quick notes on spare bits of parchment.

Suddenly, Sheridan closed his book with a decisive "thud", breaking the serene mood and causing every one to look over at him in confusion.

"I … I have something I need – need to tell you all," he said slowly and clearly, keeping his gaze fixed upon the cover of his book, refusing to look at any of them. "And … I figure now is as good a time as any."

The other five waited, befuddled, wondering what on Earth Sheridan could be talking about.

Shi shifted uncomfortably under their scrutiny before saying, all together in a hurried rush, "I'msorryIdidn'ttellyou,I'mawerewolf."

"What?" the five chorused.

Shi took a deep breath and repeated, "I'm … a werewolf. I'm sorry I didn't tell you …"

Silence reigned for a moment, then …

"Why didn't you tell us?" Harry asked finally, feeling slightly upset that Shi hadn't realized that he could trust Harry with anything.

"Yeah … I mean, you know we aren't … prejudiced or anything," Ginny added, sounding slightly hurt.

"I'm sorry," Sheridan whispered, refusing to meet their eyes. "It's just … it's _hard._ Most of the time, people are scared of me … I'm not like most werewolves, anyway."

"Sheridan," Harry said firmly, using his friend's full name for the first time. Startled, Shi looked up. Harry caught and held his friend's golden eyes in his own emerald gaze. "We're your friends. That means you can _always_ trust us, with _anything_."

"We're not about to leave because you have a … small problem," Hermione confirmed.

"Yeah," Ron added. "It's not like we're gonna hate you for something you can't _help_ … I mean, look at Ginny! _She's _a monster _all_ the_ time_, and we put up with her anyways." Ginny threw a book at her brother's head, who ducked and cried, "See? See how bad she is!"

Shi laughed along with Harry, Hermione, and Sara as Ginny grabbed her brother in a merciless headlock, and everything was back to normal – more or less, anyways. Harry wondered how he could possibly have missed the fact that Sheridan was a werewolf – it all seemed so _obvious_ now. The "visit to his uncle's place" the night of the full moon; the aversion to moonlight; the injuries; the hair and eye-color, even! He wondered briefly if Shi's crazy personality had anything to do with his lycanthropy, but quickly dismissed the thought – Remus was the calmest person Harry knew, not unpredictable at all.

Thinking of Remus reminded Harry of another thing – the Wolfsbane Potion. This threw another question into his head – why had Sheridan been so badly injured if he took the Wolfsbane Potion? According to Remus, the potion allowed werewolves to keep their minds, more or less, during the transformation, taking away the blood-lust and ferocity, so the werewolves didn't injure themselves or others. So … what had injured Shi that night?

The question preyed on Harry's mind the rest of the day. Just before dinner, Shi pulled him aside and said worriedly, "You look like a dragon's gnawing on your liver. What's wrong?"

Harry looked straight at his friend and put his question bluntly. "Last full moon, you came back all beat up." Shi nodded slightly, waiting for him to continue. "Why – I mean, I know about the Wolfsbane Potion, so how did you get all beat up?"

Sheridan rocked back on his heels, his expression suddenly shielded. "Well," he said after a moment, "it's pretty simple, really. I didn't take the Wolfsbane Potion."

Harry blinked, confused. "Why …?"

Shi huffed uncomfortably, looking as if he'd said this explanation a hundred times before. "My folks … can't really afford to pay for it. We're not exactly all that well off … and I'm just as alright locked up in a cellar, anyways, my mom's a … a decent healer. That's one reason why they shipped me off here so soon – the Potions teacher'll make the potion for free, so it's a load off their hands." He then grinned brightly. "Keeps life interestin', I can tell you!"

Harry stared at him for a moment before shaking his head incredulously at his friend's continually startling behavior. "You really _do_ have a mental disorder, you know that?"

"Yeah, that has been mentioned to me a couple of times, actually …" Shi agreed in a confused way. "Wonder why …"

Harry rolled his eyes and swatted Shi on the side of the head in part affection, part exasperation, before turning and walking towards the kitchen, relieved to see Sheridan's good humor returned. Behind him, Shi seemed briefly bewildered, raising a hand towards the side of his head where Harry had swatted him, before dropping it to his side once more and following Harry into the warm kitchen.

They entered the room to see Ron looking downcast, saying to Sara, "I just can't do it, I'm horrible at it." Sara, who was looking rather frustrated, let out a half-choked howl and backed the startled red-head up against the wall. Gesturing wildly with her hands, she fairly shouted, "Oh, enough already about how you're just _horrible_ at things! You know what your problem is? You're too insecure! Get some confidence, for Merlin's sake!" Hermione hovered nearby, uncertain as to what to do.

She was saved a decision, however, as Sara spun about and stalked off in disgust, leaving a stunned Ron still pinned against the kitchen wall.

After a moment, Ron gasped "She's – she's bloody well – a _lunatic_, she is!"

"Sentences, Ron, complete ones," Sheridan teased, neglecting to follow his own advice in the process.

"What was _that_ all about?" Harry asked Hermione. "Or do I not want to know?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, sighing as she pulled over a chair for Ron, who collapsed into it immediately. "Sara seems to think that Ron is low in self-confidence," she replied lightly, her tone slightly exasperated. "So, she felt that the best way to cure it would be to explode in his face."

"Mad. Bloody hell, she's mad," Ron added faintly, pale beneath his many freckles. Sheridan stared blankly at the stunned young wizard for a moment before turning and calling down the hallway, "Hey, Sara! Why'd you go an' traumatize Ron?"

"He's traumatized?" came an answering shout.

Shi glanced at Ron, who was still hyperventilating, eyes huge in his face. "Yep, definitely!"

"Good!" she shouted, as if that ended it.

Sheridan stared down the hallway as she stomped noisily up the stairs. He then turned back into the kitchen, a bewildered expression upon his face. "Hermione," he began, "why does Sara feel the need to traumatize Ron in order to give him self-confidence? Is this a characteristic of the female population in general, or just Sara?"

Harry and Hermione couldn't help but laugh at the genuinely confused tone coloring Shi's voice that matched the expression on the werewolf's face. Shi exchanged a look with Ron that said, _What are they laughing about?_

"No bloody idea," Ron replied aloud, sounding shaken and rather weary of his two seemingly daft friends at the moment. Shi shrugged and decided to wait for them to stop laughing and answer his question.

"It's … it's just Sara," Hermione finally managed through her giggles. "I think."

"Why would Hermione know?" Ron asked reasonably. "She's not like most girls. She's _sensible_."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, remembering his disastrous date with Cho Chang the previous year, and how Hermione had later managed to explain the Ravenclaw Chaser's puzzling behavior. The fact that it did not make it any less confusing did not take precedence in Harry's thoughts at the moment, however.

Hermione rolled her eyes at the pair of them, grinning slightly at their praise. "I'm still a girl, though," she reminded them. "So I _should_ know."

"Not necessarily," Sheridan corrected her. "I don't understand how some boys work – like your cousin, Harry – so it only stands to reason that _you_ don't understand how some girls work, Hermione."

"_I_ don't understand how _you_ work," Ron informed Sheridan dryly.

Sheridan beamed, as if he had just received a glowing compliment. "I am an enigma to the world," he proclaimed loftily.

Ron kicked out at the shorter teen's ankles from his chair in exasperation at Shi's ceaseless jesting. "Are you _ever_ serious!" the red-head demanded irately.

Shi hopped onto a chair to spare his shins from Ron's kicks, and replied in a slightly sing-song voice, "De-_peeeends _… d'you _want_ me t'be?"

As Hermione and Harry looked on, amused, Ron replied, sounding flustered, "Yes! That would be a bloody well relief!"

Sheridan clambered down from his crouched perch on the chair and sat on the set, assuming a suddenly serious expression. His eyes were incredibly lacking any kind of his usual mirth as he said, "Okay. I can do serious. My life is a horror flick – I tear myself to bits every month. My sister lives in America, and my parents are scared of me. Life ain't all that great." He seemed to muse on these sobering statements, scowled, and then continued, "D'you _really_ want me t'be serious? I mean, it's no _fun_ …"

"No, cheerful is fine!" Harry hastened to assure him. He'd never known that his friend's life was that bad – hadn't even suspected.

"Yes, please ignore Ron, he's an idiot," Hermione agreed.

Ron nodded in agreement before realizing what Hermione had said about him and shouting, "Oy!" Sheridan grinned and accepted the apologies, and then started rambling on about platypuses and hedgehogs, at which point Harry concluded with no little relief that his friend was back to his normal abnormality.

* * *

The next day, as Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Sheridan pored over large, thick books with dictionary-sized print in the lazy afternoon sunlight in the attic, Shi suddenly dropped the book he was holding and dashed off to the (now rather large) precariously balanced stacks of 'already-read' books. He hunted furiously for whatever it was he was searching for, knocking a few smaller piles to the ground in the process. 

"Shi?" Harry inquired, curious as to what exactly the werewolf was doing.

"Ah-hah!" Shi replied as he carefully maneuvered a thin book about the veil from under a stack of dictionaries and lengthy histories that droned on and on without ever getting to the point. Opening it up to a page near the center, he read aloud, "The veil, though deadly to all who pass through its gates, also exercises amplifying effects on any and all spells that pass through it."

Hermione, who had looked upwards hopefully, sighed in a downcast manner. "Yes," she said, "but the Order has already tried to Ennervate Sirius. They even had several people do it at once, to make it stronger. It didn't work."

"Oh," Sheridan sighed, face falling. "But I thought …" he faltered and sounded slightly unsure. "There's a spell for amplifying your voice, isn't there? _Sonorus_? Could it be modified to amplify _Ennervate_?" He sounded as if he was asking a question in school.

Hermione froze, staring at Sheridan with huge eyes. All of a sudden, she shrieked, "Oh my God, Shi, that's it! You're _brilliant_!" She dashed over and pecked him on the cheek, overwhelmed with the brilliance of whatever it was that had her so excited, before dashing off down the attic stairs, shouting, "Come _on, _come _on!_"

The boys were frozen in shock for several seconds, Shi's eyes as huge as dinner plates – Hermione _had_ just kissed him for no apparent reason, after all. He seemed stunned and unsure as to how to react. He settled for dashing after the errant witch with Harry and Ron.

"_What's_ it, Hermione?" Harry panted as they caught up with her on the main stairway.

"Sheridan's _right!_" Hermione cried as she began to jump down the stairs, two at a time. "If we – can just – amplify – the awake – ening spell – we can – wake up – _Sirius_!" With that, she reached the floor and dashed off once again, calling loudly, "Professor Staaaaannnntonnn!"

"_Wait_!" Ron shouted, finally managing to halt the witch's wild dash. As the other three caught up to her, panting, Ron continued, "She's not _here_, she took Sara and Ginny on a shopping trip, remember? She asked _you,_ too, but you wanted to stay here and _study_."

"Oh! Oh yes!" Hermione exclaimed, startled, as the boys shook their heads in despair of her memory beyond research. "I remember now … oh no, is _anyone_ here?"

"I'm here," Shi pointed out in a helpful manner. "And you, and Harry, and Ron. And Buckbeak. And Sirius, of course, though he's unconscious."

"Ooohh!" Hermione moaned in frustration. "But I don't know _how_ to adapt anti-curse spells yet!"

"I have a book on it," Harry offered, trying to be helpful despite being thoroughly lost. "Don't know if it has Sonorus in it or not, though …"

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" Hermione exclaimed, delighted, practically hopping up and down for joy. Ron and Harry hadn't seen her as urgently inspired as _this_ since her brainstorm concerning the centaurs and Umbridge in June. "Calm _down_, Hermione," Harry pleaded, "and tell us what's going on!"

"What Sheridan said _before_," Hermione explained for the second time, sounding slightly exasperated with their stupidity, "about using _Sonorus_ to amplify – if we can get it to _work_ properly, then we should be able to Ennervate Sirius! That _must_ be why he won't wake up, he's Stunned! And when he fell through the veil, it amplified the _spell_, and when we used several people it once it didn't work because we couldn't amplify it, only _multiply_ it, but I think Sheridan's got it!"

"_Shi,_" Sheridan muttered, before pausing and absorbing what Hermione said with the other two. Then …

"Bloody Hell!"

"Merlin's beard, are you _serious_?"

"_I _thought of somethin' _useful_?"

"Yes! You've finally got it," Hermione exclaimed, relieved that they had finally understood. "Harry, could you get that book?"

Harry raced upstairs and retrieved the book from his trunk. Handing it to Hermione, he panted, "Here you go, 'Mione."

"To the kitchen!" Sheridan exclaimed dramatically, striking a pose.

"Why the kitchen?" Harry queried, bemused.

"Because I want some chocolate," Shi replied in a tone of utmost reason, walking into the kitchen in search of the aforementioned sustenance. Harry laughed and followed readily. Ron and Hermione exchanged bemused looks, shrugged, and followed.

* * *

A/N: Ooookay. **((deep, mysterious voice))** That's all there is, there is no more ... until next time!

>>>>>"_Most people learn by observation, and there are a few who learn by experimentation. And then there are those who actually _TOUCH_ the fire to see if it's really hot." –_Anonymous>>>>>

**R. E. V. I. E. W.**


	9. Padfoot Returned

A/N: I'm back from the DEEEAAAAADDD! Come to haunt you all with yet another chapter! Yes, she hath finally updated! School's been absolute _murder_. But, I got out of school early today ... and no school the rest of the week ... so! I got another chapter going! I need to work on all my other fics, too ... **((guilty sweatdrop))** Anyway, pleaseopleaseo enjoy!

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Chapter 9: PADFOOT RETURNED

Five minutes later, the four were seated at the end of the large kitchen table, sipping, oddly enough, warm mugs of hot chocolate as Hermione attempted to figure out how to modify anti-jinx spells. As Ron commented, it sounded a lot more like a Latin lesson than a jinx lesson. But Hermione seemed to understand it (no real surprises there), and so it didn't really matter that the rest of them didn't have a clue.

Soon, Hermione was scribbling away furiously on a spare piece of parchment she'd found under a chair leg while Harry occasionally peered over her shoulder, interested but unable to understand a word of it. Sheridan savored his hot chocolate while Ron kind of spaced out, his eyes glazing over

"Harry?" Shi asked after about ten minutes of this. "What's today? I forgot."

"The twenty-first, why?" Harry replied, confused.

Sheridan shrugged evasively. "I forgot what day it was," he repeated, sipping his hot chocolate. Ron, who was, for all intents and purposes, dead to the world, didn't notice the brief exchange, nor did Hermione, who was totally fixated upon her task.

Frowning slightly, Harry thought a moment before it hit him – Shi needed to know what day it was to know how soon the full moon would be! Actually, now that Harry thought about it, it would be in two days. Poor Shi. He couldn't help but comment, however, "Most werewolves would've noticed, you know."

"Am I most werewolves? Or people or whatever you said?" Shi asked, eyeing Harry speculatively through the steam rising from his mug.

"No," Harry, chuckling, had to admit. "You're a special case."

"Why, thank you!" Shi replied, sitting up straight and beaming at the comment that had obviously been taken as a compliment.

"Would you two love-birds just quit?" Ron moaned teasingly. Not entirely dead to the world after all, then. Harry kicked the lanky red-head's shin – _hard _– while Shi blinked, cocked his head, and said "Tweet, tweet."

Harry scowled at the seemingly-clueless Sheridan. "You're not helping," he informed the young werewolf.

"Helping what?" Shi asked bemusedly, eyes innocently wide. "What am I supposed to be helping with?"

"Just give up on him, Harry," Ron advised his friend without moving from his slumped position or opening his eyes. "He's a hopeless cause, he is."

"I am _not_!" Sheridan protested, although that protest was considerably weakened when Ron deigned to open his eyelids a fraction and raise an eyebrow skeptically. Harry rolled his eyes, kicking Ron once more, this time on the ankle. "Oy," the red-head protested, rubbing his leg – the wrong one, Harry was amused to note. "I'm on your left," he pointed out to the lanky teen, grinning. Ron blinked and his ears rapidly turned a vivid shade of red.

"There!" Hermione suddenly cried triumphantly, slamming her quill down upon the table, which caused ink to spatter all over the wood grain. She ignored this as she added, with no little pride, "Finished!"

"That's wonderful, Hermione!" Harry exclaimed, hopeful fires burning brightly within him.

"Now what?" Ron wondered.

Sheridan stared at the red-head as if he was daft. "We go try it out, of course!" he cried.

Hermione suddenly looked nervous. "But …" she hesitated. "What if we make a mistake and … I don't know, _kill_ Sirius?" She looked decidedly uneasy, but determined to make her point. "Maybe we should wait for someone to come back …"

Harry stared at Hermione levelly. "Have you got the spell right?" he asked her steadily.

"Y-yes," she stammered, slightly nervous. At his serious expression, however, she added, more steadily, "Yes. I'm positive."

"Well, then," Sheridan said cheerfully. "What're we waitin' for? Let's go an' wake up Sirius! Give everyone a surprise when they come home!"

Hermione still looked slightly wary, but was swept up by Harry's rigid determination, Ron's certainty that she could do no wrong, and, of course, Sheridan's unceasing exuberance. The four trooped up the winding staircase and slowly, quietly, entered Sirius' room.

Gazing upon Harry's godfather for the first time, Shi murmured, "So this is the infamous Sirius Black." When Harry glanced over at him, Shi met his gaze and told Harry, surprisingly solemn, "He looks like a good person. I really hope this works. I'd like to meet him."

"Thanks," Harry replied, grateful for Sheridan's unhesitating support. "I hope this works, too."

Hermione, standing in front of the large four-poster bed, raised her wand slowly, pointing it directly at Sirius' chest. The room seemed to hold its breath as she murmured, "Dear Merlin, let this work … _Sonorium Ennerviate!_"

A bright jet of red light sprang out of her wand, vibrating strongly like a stricken gong, and hit Sirius squarely in the chest. His entire body jolted with the impact, then lay still again.

The four held their breath for an agonizing minute that seemed to last a year, praying to whatever gods happened to hear. Then, Sirius groaned softly, and his grey eyes opened for the first time in nearly two months.

Sirius blearily looked about the room, not seeming to recognize where he was, and then to the four staring at him from the middle of the room, paralyzed. His eyes lit upon Harry and, gathering himself, he croaked, "Hey."

His voice, harsh and cracking from disuse, set loose an explosion. Harry, Ron, and Hermione practically leapt atop of Sirius, smothering him with fierce hugs and breaking the poor Animagus' eardrums with their happy shrieks of joy. Sheridan unleashed a wordless shout of triumph, pumping his fist jubilantly into the air before giving Sirius a delighted hug simply because everyone else was.

This jubilant, elated celebration continued for about a minute, until Sirius half-bellowed hoarsely, "OY! What _happened_! Why am I in my room? Harry! Where's the Death Eaters, where's Dumbledore, what the bloody _hell_ is going on!"

Managing to calm down slightly, (but only slightly), the four explained, to the best of their ability, what had happened since Sirius had fallen through the veil. Sirius, when they finished, looked rather dumbstruck.

"I've been out for _two **months**_!" he repeated Hermione's last statement incredulously. When they nodded, he finally seemed to notice Sheridan, who was balancing on the foot-board of the bed just behind Harry, who was perched on the mattress. "And who's _that_?"

Sheridan, being typical Sheridan, offered his hand, beaming. "Well, in a nutshell, I am Sheridan Parker, crazy American and loony werewolf at your service! Well, not really at your service, but that sounds better than just 'hello', I think …"

Sirius stared at Shi's hand for a moment before slowly shaking it bemusedly. "Right," he said slowly, as if unsure as to whether he should take the teen seriously or not. "And you know these three … _how_?"

"Long story," Harry and Shi replied in unison. Sirius looked from one to the other, eyebrows raised. "We'll tell you later," Harry added.

"Well, who else is here? Where's Remus, where's Molly?" Sirius demanded, hoping for some kind of explanation clearer than what the teens could manage.

"Out," Hermione said simply.

"_Out_?" the dumbstruck Animagus repeated.

"Yeah – Remus is looking for a job, and Mum an' Professor Stanton went on a shopping trip with Ginny and Sara," Ron tried to explain, but he was cut off once again by Sirius.

"Stanton?" Sirius repeated – he seemed to be doing that a lot. "As in – _Thrennia_ Stanton?"

They nodded, confused.

Sirius suddenly gave a short, barking laugh of incredulity. "I don't believe it," he said hoarsely, shaking his head in wonderment. "I don't bloody believe it …"

"Don't believe what?" Shi asked curiously.

"_Everything_," Sirius muttered, starting to get up. The teenagers leapt off the bed as Sirius stood up, swayed slightly, and then steadied. He surveyed the room with a vindictive air before turning to the four and inquiring plaintively, "Got any food? I'm _starved_."

Laughing, Harry and Hermione assisted a wobbly Sirius down the stairs to the kitchen, Sheridan and Ron dashing ahead to prepare some food.

After Sirius had inhaled four eggs, a large platter of bacon, and a huge stack of buttered toast, downed by some orange juice Ron had produced from a lone cupboard, he sat back and demanded to know exactly how Sheridan and Harry had met. When Harry finished the story, Shi chipping in every three seconds or so, Sirius stared at the two of them and calmly stated, "Bloody hell. Coincidences like that shouldn't be legal."

"Who says they are?" Shi wondered abruptly. "I mean, is there a division in the government that covers coincidences, or does it all just run amok, a bomb waitin' t'happen?"

Sirius blinked, eyebrows raised. "You're not like other people, are you?" he asked blandly.

"Nope," Shi replied, completely nonchalant.

"You're insane," Sirius stated flatly.

"Insanity doesn't bother me – I enjoy every minute of it," Sheridan agreed amiably.

Sirius paused a moment before visibly deciding to simply take Sheridan in stride. "Ooookaaay … Harry? Your new friend's off his rocker."

"I know," Harry agreed, unconcerned.

"Keeps things interesting," Hermione giggled slightly, unknowingly quoting said "off-his-rocker" friend.

"One question, though," Sirius continued, setting his fork down on his miraculously clean plate and turning to Sheridan. "Why didn't you know Harry was a wizard? I mean, he's kind of … famous …"

Sheridan shrugged, blushing slightly in embarrassment. "Well … actually … see, I never really paid all that much attention to foreign current events, and so … I, err … well, I kinda thought that the "Boy-Who-Lived" was some guy called 'Harold Porter'."

Sirius' eyebrows skyrocketed upwards. "Ah. Why … am I not surprised?" he asked plaintively of the ceiling, as if it would explain Sheridan's odd thought processes to him. His sense of resigned helplessness was not assisted by the four teens, who were giggling helplessly at Sirius' reaction to what they considered normal … for Shi, anyways.

Sheridan, laughing with his usual abandon, laughed so hard that he fell out of his chair, hitting the floor with a surprised "Whoops!" There was a slight pause, and then everyone fell all about laughing, even Harry, for no good reason except relief that, now, everything was all right. It felt so wonderful to laugh without restrictions or guilt … now that Sirius was back, safe and sound, everything seemed simply marvelous. Everything was suddenly ten times funnier, now that Harry no longer felt guilty about being happy – and, when Sheridan was involved, 'ten times funnier' was a significant difference, indeed.

"So," Sirius began after everyone had calmed down a bit, "what happened after the incident at the Ministry? Does Fudge believe that Voldemort's back yet, Harry?"

"Definitely," Harry affirmed grimly. "The Aurors arrested a whole bunch of Death Eaters, as well, but we don't know how long they'll stay in Azkaban without the Dementors."

"Dumbledore cleared your name, Sirius!" Hermione exclaimed, suddenly remembering. "You're free now!"

Sirius stared at her, the full meaning of the proclamation failing to strike him.

"You don't have to be in hiding anymore!" Ron eagerly continued Hermione's train of thought.

Sirius gaped incredulously before a huge grin slowly spread across his face. "YES!" he cried suddenly, leaping up and pumping his fist jubilantly into the air. He froze in mid-jump, however, as a loud "POP!" sounded through the kitchen. Remus suddenly Apparated into the room, facing away from Sirius, and looking more tired and discouraged than ever. Waving his wand, a mug hovered over to him and filled with steaming hot coffee. The older werewolf picked it up and turned about with a sigh on his lips.

Fighting a delighted smirk as Remus didn't immediately notice him, Sirius asked sympathetically, "Tough day, Remus?"

"You have _no -"_ Remus halted mid-sentence. The four teens, with amused interest, watched Remus' eyes grew larger than dinner plates, as his mouth dropped open and the hot coffee mug fell from his suddenly nerveless fingers to shatter unnoticed upon the tiled floor.

"S-Si-Sirius?" the stunned werewolf stammered, at a total loss for words.

"Yes!" Sirius agreed delightedly. "It's me, Moony!"

Remus gaped. "But – but _how_ …?"

Sirius mock-frowned. "Aren't you happy to see me?" he demanded, feigning injury. He looked slightly startled when the older werewolf suddenly strode forwards and embraced his friend fiercely.

The four teenagers quietly left the room, deciding to leave the two close friends alone for their well-deserved reunion.

"You're incredible, Hermione," Harry declared as soon as they entered the main hallway. "Absolutely incredible."

The witch shrugged modestly. "It wasn't _all_ me," she demurred. "_Sheridan_ was the one who really figured it out, after all."

"I didn't figure anything out!" Shi protested, looking faintly alarmed at the very thought. "I was just supposing, like I always do, that's all!"

"It was _your_ "supposing" that solved the problem," Ron fairly pointed out.

Sheridan was still shaking his head in stubborn denial when Harry lightly punched him on the shoulder. "Oh, come _on_, Shi!" the bespectacled boy exclaimed in fond exasperation. "At _least_ admit that you helped out!"

"Okay, okay," the young werewolf laughed good-naturedly, rubbing his shoulder in feigned hurt. "If you insist … geez, you're so _violent_ …"

Ron rolled his eyes at Hermione. "I think we're looking at a _classic_ case of denial here," he commented dryly, making her laugh.

"Hey …" Shi suddenly said to the world at large. "'Denial' and 'menial' are spelled almost the same, but they're pronounced completely differently. Why is that?"

Harry and Ron exchanged incredulous looks before starting to laugh, as Shi protested, "Hey, I'm _serious_, why is that?"

"Don't know," the two replied before laughing some more. Sheridan, having no idea as to why the two were laughing, shot Hermione a helpless 'lost-puppy' look that sent her into giggles as well. Sighing and shaking his head in despair, Shi proclaimed, "I have _never_ met _anyone_ who laughed as much as you three do."

Calming down, Hermione looked Sheridan straight in the eye and advised him, "Be glad they are." Shi blinked at her, cocking his head slightly, before smiling and replying, "Okay. I'll be glad they're happy."

Hermione stared at him for a moment before smiling incredulously. "You, Shi, are _just_ what the doctor ordered," she murmured to herself, looking at Harry's smiling, unworried face. "Thank Merlin you came here when you did."

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A/N: Sooo ...chapter nine is concluded ... voila. I actually updated! **((reviewers die from utter shock)) **No, my reviewers! Come back to meeee! ...please?

REVIEW! The first three people to review will get their answers from Sheridan! Cross my heart!

"_A friend is someone who will help you move. A _real_ friend is someone who will help you move a _body_." _–Anonymous


	10. Enter the Parental Units

A/N: Yeah, yeah, yeah - LONG TIME IN UPDATING! I KNOW! I KNOW! I've really been loaded down with homework and schoolwork and research papers and no study halls and crazy schedules and Christmas shopping. Excuses, excuses, I know. I'm only uploading this because I already had it downloaded and written. No new updates on _anything _I haven't already previously written until after Christmas. Sorry, but that's the way it goes. Please enjoy my new chappie!

Replies to my lovely and ever-so-patient reviewers will be at the bottom.

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Chapter 10: ENTER THE PARENTAL UNITS

Predictably, the Order's reaction to Sirius' sudden revival was one of shocked, incredulous joy. Professor Stanton, upon seeing the ex-convict, had given the man a gigantic bear hug, nearly crushing his ribs in the process. Sirius, once he got over his initial shock at her sudden appearance, hailed her delightedly as an old friend. In fact, Dumbledore was the only one who wasn't entirely surprised when confronted with a very-much-awake Padfoot.

Dinner that evening was a joyous but busy occasion, as Sirius continually demanded to be brought up-to-speed on _all_ of the Order's doings, as well as what had been happening with his godson's life. Harry himself was over the moon to have his godfather back in the land of the living once more, and his exuberant mood showed itself in his sudden talkativeness and continued smiling. All of the member's of Harry's surrogate "family" were safe and sound once more – all was right with his world.

As for Sirius, he for one was delighted to find an old friend among his well-wishers in the form of Thrennia Stanton. He talked for a long time with the professor and Remus, catching up with each other's lives. He seemed thrilled to meet Sara, who hadn't been born before he'd been imprisoned in Azkaban. Harry and Sara were both called over continually to be the objects of several debates – the two, discussing it afterwards, concluded that the Firewhiskey bottles that Mundungus had smuggled in probably had something to do with this.

Once, when Professor Stanton called Harry over to the corner she, Sirius, and Remus had staked out halfway through dinner, Harry found himself being compared to, not his father for once, but to his mother. Looking him over, Stanton had nodded in a knowing way and said matter-of-factly, "I suspect nearly everyone you meet tells you you're the spitting image of James." Ignoring Sirius and Remus' chuckles at her bluntness, she continued, "You're very much like Lily in your temperament and personality, though. These two will probably talk your ear off about James, but you're really very like Lily. She could and would do anything she put her mind to, and I suspect you're the same. Don't you forget it." Finishing thus, she then spun Harry back about and commanded him to have some fun with his friends. Harry decided that she'd had more than a single glass of Firewhiskey, and obliged.

The party stretched long into the night, ending in the wee hours of early morning. Everyone stumbled off to bed around two o'clock a.m., yawning profusely. More than one person woke up several hours later to a massive hangover. Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, and Kingsley were wide-awake and waiting when Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Sheridan stumbled downstairs around eleven. The adults immediately proceeded to interrogate the four teenagers responsible for Sirius' revival on how exactly they had figured out how to awaken him, and what had occurred to them as they did so. Following this, the Professors and Auror gave the four a stern lecture, forbidding them to _ever_ do anything of the sort ever again, and reminding them that they were lucky that the Ministry of Magic mostly depended on guardians to reinforce the Decree of Underage Magic. Once this was over, the adults congratulated them heartily for their cleverness.

Of course, there was a punishment for breaking the Decree of Underage Magic. The guilty quartet was sentenced to a week of cleaning, scrubbing, and scouring anyplace at all in the large mansion that the adults felt needed cleaning, without magic. The four found themselves furiously cleaning long into the night for the entire week. Not that they truly minded, though they grumbled when continually attacked by doxies in the drawing room – it seemed a small price to pay for the return of Padfoot.

The full moon occurred on the third day of their punishment – Sheridan was slightly snappy and withdrawn, and on the following day was allowed a rest day to heal. The day after, however, he leapt right back into the cleaning with a will. He was still bandaged and healing from the full moon, but he attacked the chores with the same energy as before, maybe even more since his monthly penance was over with for the next four weeks.

At the close of their seventh and final day of punishment, they were all of them in a good mood, feeling exhausted but justly proud at the sheer amount of cleaning they had managed to accomplish without touching their wands. Sheridan and Harry were bouncing jokes off one another – or rather, Shi was being his normal self and Harry was going along with the flow – and Ron was making wry comments about Shi's mental state, causing Hermione to either glare at him sternly, agree, giggle helplessly, or a rather strange combination of all three that made Shi ask if she was about to puke.

The four entered the kitchen to find, to their surprise, two new guests waiting there, presumably for Dumbledore. A rather slender woman with shoulder-length, dirty-blond hair sat at the table, sipping a tall glass of lemonade. She was fine-featured, with light green eyes and an aquiline nose. The other – her husband, Harry guessed, spotting the identical rings they wore – was standing behind her, a hand resting on the back of her chair. He was shorter than usual in stature, with a slightly formless mop of grey-brown hair, and was more stolidly built than his wife. His dark brown eyes seemed distant, and the impression was enhanced by his thick, horn-rimmed glasses. Harry was reminded vaguely – and slightly unpleasantly – of Percy.

Beside Harry, Sheridan froze. The expression on his face was one of surprised distress, before the werewolf managed to force it to simple surprise. Before Harry could inquire as to what was wrong, the woman spoke up; "Hello, Sheridan. Good to see you." She smiled at the teen, but it was a vague, distant smile that did not quite meet her green eyes.

Shi swallowed briefly, almost imperceptibly, before replying, in a low, strangled voice quite unlike his own, "Hey, Mom. Hey, Dad."

The man – Robert Parker, Harry now realized – grinned at him, but again, the smile was strangely detached. "Aren't you happy to see us?" he asked. Harry frowned, but only slightly – there was something … something wrong, here. But he couldn't quite place it.

He watched, feeling lost, as Shi hurriedly slapped a smile onto his face. It looked more like a grimace than a grin, in Harry's opinion. "Oh – yeah, 'course I am," the young werewolf replied a little too quickly.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were now very concerned, glancing from the tense Sheridan, to his strangely ... distant? … parents, and back again.

"Aren't you going to introduce your friends?" the woman – Diana Parker – prompted after a long moment of silence.

"Oh! Uh, yeah … um, Mom, Dad, this is Harry, Ron, and Hermione," he said, sounding slightly strained as he gestured at his friends. "Guys, these are my parents." The three nodded politely at the couple, wondering what exactly was going on between their friend and his parents.

"Nice to meet you," Mrs. Parker told them warmly. It hit Harry suddenly, what had been wrong with the couple before. The two had had no warmth with Sheridan. The motions were all there, but there was nothing behind them. It made Harry feel suddenly sick to his stomach.

They stood there in awkward silence for another minute. Harry alternated between refraining from glaring at Shi's parents and glancing worriedly over at the aforementioned friend, who was tense and uncomfortable.

"Uh … why are you guys here?" Sheridan asked suddenly of his parents.

Mr. and Mrs. Parker looked surprised he asked. "We're reporting to Dumbledore, of course," his mother replied, sounding as if she was explaining backyard grills to a neighbor – friendly and informative, but impersonal.

"Why don't you run along and have fun with your friends," Mr. Parker suggested. Shi blinked, and slight disappointment flashed across his face before he managed to bury it once more. "Oh," he said quietly. "Okay." With that, he turned and fled the room.

Harry stared after his friend's retreating form before dashing off in pursuit. Ron and Hermione exchanged awkward glances before following at a tactfully slower pace – Sheridan was their friend as well, but Harry had known him longest. They wouldn't be quite as welcome at the moment, they knew. Or at least, Hermione knew and Ron picked up that she didn't want to immediately follow.

"Shi!" Harry called out from behind the young werewolf. Sheridan halted, quickly dashing something from his face before turning to Harry. "Are you alright?" Harry continued as he caught up, concerned. The bright sparkle that normally inhabited Sheridan's bright gold eyes had vanished, leaving an empty and rather forlorn expression in its place.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Shi replied, grinning in an effort to convince his friend. But Harry, who knew Shi's expressions by heart, saw the mask for what it was and dismissed it.

"What's up with your parents?" Harry asked quietly, praying that he wasn't being too rude or tactless, that he wasn't about to see Shi's smiling mask slip into place again.

Sheridan's golden eyes clouded. "Oh …" he said in a low voice, barely audible. "You noticed, huh?" Harry didn't reply – he didn't need to.

Shi sighed when he realized Harry wasn't going to drop it. "My parents, they have … I mean, it's hard for them, my being a … a werewolf. It causes … problems …" he murmured unsteadily.

"Problems? What are you talking about, what problems could there possibly be?" Harry demanded, his anger at Sheridan's parents rising dangerously.

"I think … they're afraid … it's not their fault -" Shi, alarmed at Harry's anger, not knowing who or what it was directed at, tried to defend his parents, but Harry harshly interrupted, "Oh, and so it's _yours_?"

Sheridan blinked at Harry's harsh, angry tone, and the shutters pulled over his face again. Harry cursed himself and his temper as he grabbed the shorter teen's arm to keep him from leaving. Shi halted and stiffened, refusing to look at Harry, staring fixedly over the dark-haired boy's left shoulder.

"Look, Sheridan, I'm _sorry,_" he apologized, hoping he hadn't gone too far. "I'm not angry with _you_, it's just … I don't like to see my friends get hurt."

After a long moment, Sheridan sighed, the stiffness leaving his body. "I know," he replied slowly, still not looking at Harry. "But … it's not their fault, Harry. I don't blame them. They _tried_, Harry. They really did."

Harry sighed in muted frustration, careful to not let Shi see it – in his opinion, they should have _kept on _trying, or tried harder. Sheridan was _worth_ it – why couldn't they _see_ that?

"Okay," he gave in anyways, realizing that debating the matter would get them nowhere but back to where they'd started. "You _sure_ you'll be okay?"

Shi nodded, a small smile – a real one, this time – flashing briefly across his face. "Yeah." He paused, then said, sounding once more like the normal Sheridan, "Err … Harry? You can let go of my arm now …"

Harry's eyes widened behind his glasses as he realized he hadn't released Shi's arm. He quickly let go as, at that moment, Ron and Hermione approached. "Are you alright, Sheridan?" Hermione asked, genuinely worried.

Shi smiled over at her – a true smile that reached his no-longer-dull eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine," he replied, truthfully this time. "Really."

Molly Weasley then interrupted what was quickly turning into what Ron would call, "A really mushy moment", much to the relief of all involved. "Upstairs!" she ordered. "You've got to finish packing, we need to leave early tomorrow! Up! Up! Up!" She herded them upstairs as easily as a mother hen herds her chicks.

Yawning, the four decided to finish packing and then turn in early – they were exhausted after all that cleaning. One by one, they each fell into a blissfully dreamless sleep.

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A/N: And now, for my magnificent reviewers:

**shedoc:** I'm glad you didn't give up on me! Don't give up now, either, school's just bearing down a bit much at the moment. Visit to the Dursley's? Most definitely ... **((evil laughter))** But, probably more around summer, when Sirius claims his guardianship over Harry. Too much Order stuff going on for Sirius to be attacking Muggle people, no matter how horrible they are.

**AlyRaven:** Whooo! Another story alert! Yaaaaaay! **((dances the happy-story-alert/review dance and falls over))**

**Satio:** Wow ... you really like this thing _that much_? I'm so freakin' honored! WOW! So happy ... and I _love _those quotes, they're _hilarious_! D'you mind if I use them for later chapters? I'm sooooo glad you like Sheridan. I'm striving to make him as realistic as possible ... which can be a challenge at times, let me tell you! My friend tells me he's a real-as-dirt guy in a Mary Sue/Gary Sue situation. I'm forced to agree, eheheh.

Yeah, normally Sirius would take Sheridan in his stride ... but give him a break! He's just woken up from a two-and-a-half month coma, been overloaded with surprising information (like the ministry battle and Stanton), and is _starving_ and can't seem to grasp that he's lost over two months' time ... and then throw Sheridan in his face!

And, _please_, keep it up with the long reviews! They really truly make my day!

**crimson spirit:** As promised, straight from Sheridan's mouth:

"Huzzah! Crimson thinks I'm great! Crimson _lurves_ me! I'm so flattered! Professor Stanton and Sara are flattered, too. I'm glad you think Rhya's doin' a good job! I can't exactly complain, tho', as she is my authoress. The best I can do is run away to the nearest McDonald's for a break every once in a while ... but it's trying to take over the world, so I'm not so sure that's a _good_ thing, necessarily ... hmm ... I'll have to ask Hermione about that sometime ..."

R. E. V. I. E. W. _P. L. E. A. S. E._

"Y_ou never see the bad days in a photo album, but it's those days that get us from one happy snapshot to the next." _–Unknown


	11. The Hogwarts Express

A/N: Finally! Finishing this chapter was _murder_, let me tell you. I hope you all appreciate this, because I'm doing this _right now_ with a sinus headache that makes my nose feel like it's _broken_. And Regents (a NY testing thing) are absolutely _stupid_. Stupidstupidstupidstupid ...yeah.

Replies to my ever-adored reviewers are below, as always. Please enjoy!

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Chapter 11: THE HOGWARTS EXPRESS

The next morning, Harry, Ron, and Sheridan stumbled downstairs to breakfast, followed by an annoyingly wide-awake Hermione chattering about the new subjects they were going to be taking at school, particularly wizarding law. The three boys stumbled in through the door of the kitchen like half-asleep zombies (which they were). They more-or-less staggered over to the kitchen table and sat themselves down, blearily helping themselves to pieces of toast and bacon from a large platter near the center of the table.

"Bloody hell," Ron grumbled, wincing as he moved his strained, aching muscles. "I feel like I got run over by a train! This is cruel and unusual punishment, mate, I mean it."

Harry rolled his eyes while Sheridan commented, "If you got run over by a train, you wouldn't feel anything, would you? I mean, you'd either be dead or two-dimensional, right?"

Ron stared at the werewolf, a piece of bacon hanging from his mouth. Shi snickered and turned back to his scrambled egg he'd filched from Hermione's plate. Harry snorted and replied to Sheridan's query, "Well, if you're two-dimensional, where'd the third dimension go?"

Sheridan blinked in surprise, eyes opening fully for the first time that morning. The young wizard said in a slightly wondering tone, "Harry, I think I'm startin' to rub off on you."

Harry nearly choked on his bacon, which was a remarkable feat, considering that it was the soggy, chewy type of bacon that is extremely difficult to swallow, let alone choke on. Ron pounded him on the back as Hermione finally stopped chattering about the wizarding law system and asked if Harry was alright, while Shi snorted into his glass of orange juice.

Mrs. Weasley, who'd just entered the room, raised her eyebrows at Sheridan. "Are you trying to choke poor Harry to _death_, Sheridan?" she demanded imperiously. Shi struggled to maintain a straight face as he replied, "No, ma'am, not at all."

Mrs. Weasley tutted disapprovingly before turning to face the other three teenagers. "And the rest of you …" she began warningly. "Are you all packed?"

The quartet exchanged guilty looks. "Err …" Ron began. "Mostly …"

Under Mrs. Weasley's furious and impatient glare, the four hurriedly gulped down the remainders of their breakfasts and dashed off to their rooms to dress and do some last-minute packing.

For a while, everything was, quite simply, chaotic; the teenaged inhabitants of Grimmauld Place dashed left, right, and center trying to pack everything they needed, remember everything they'd forgotten, and load everything else into the two cars Mr. Weasley, who'd been promoted to head of the Office for Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects recently, had received from the Ministry. It was a new office that Harry doubted was Fudge's idea. It was popular opinion everywhere that Fudge was going to be kicked out of office – and soon.

The adults, for the most part, dashed about trying to be helpful and to get the teens moving faster. Mr. Weasley and Tonks were working on stuffing the luggage into the two Ministry cars, Sirius and Remus were in charge of making sure no one forgot anything, and Professor Stanton was simply trying to get them to move faster, clapping her hands and shouting, "Come on, let's get this show on the road! Let's move it, now, now, now!"

Mrs. Weasley, when she wasn't running off with something one of them had forgotten in the kitchen or drawing room, checked everybody to make sure the teens were presentable. She randomly grabbed one of them from the hurrying mob and thrust combs through messy hair, straightened jackets, and the like. When she saw Sheridan, with his long hair still mussed from last night, she let out a cry of part dismay, part despair. "Can't you _do_ something with that hair of yours?" she demanded frantically. Sheridan rolled his eyes in exasperation, but leapt upstairs once more to borrow a comb from Sara or Ginny, who were _still_ packing.

Finally, everything was packed, everything was loaded, and everyone looked more-or-less presentable. Sheridan bolted back downstairs with Sara, who had forgotten her hat, with his long hair hastily brushed and pulled back into a long ponytail.

Stanton rushed into the hallway and yelled, "Okay, we ready to go? Got everything? Yes? Good! Sirius, dog! Now!"

"Wow," Sheridan stated as Sirius swiftly transformed into a large, bear-like black dog. "Neat."

"How come he has to be Padfoot?" Harry asked Professor Stanton, confused. "The Ministry cleared his name, didn't it?"

"Yes," Remus interjected before Harry could get any farther, motioning to Stanton to wait a moment. "But … Harry, fifteen years is a long time for _any_ community to hate and fear _anyone_. Most people are still getting used to the idea that he's not a dangerous criminal who'll murder them in their sleep. Padfoot is our best bet."

"Oh." Harry suddenly felt rather glum – somehow, he'd thought that, once Sirius was proven innocent, everything would be fine. Now he saw that that had been a foolish notion – nothing was ever that simple.

Padfoot woofed softly and pressed his cold, wet nose into Harry's hand, wagging his tail until Harry smiled. If Sirius was all right with this, then so was he.

"Okay, let's move it!" Stanton declared loudly. "We dilly-dally anymore, we're going to miss the train!"

They all piled into the cars. Harry was smooshed into the back seat of, ironically, a Ford Anglia, along with Ron and Sheridan, Padfoot spreading out across their laps and resting his head on Harry's knee. Tonks and Remus were situated in the front. Hermione, Sara, and Ginny were all piled into the other car, along with Mad-Eye Moody and Professor Stanton.

Unfortunately for the passengers in the dented Ford Anglia (and their stomachs), Tonks was the one driving. While this fact did mean that they arrived at Kings Cross Station with fifteen minutes to spare, it also entailed that their nerves would be frayed to the breaking point and their stomachs would be intent upon rebellion. As Ron so blithely put it, "She's a driver from bloody _hell_, she is!" Harry, Remus, and Sheridan nodded their agreement, not trusting in their abilities to speak. Tonks huffed and rolled her eyes indignantly until Mad-Eye shouted at her to get moving, for Merlin's sake!

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, who had Apparated to a safe location nearby to save on car-space (which was, quite obviously, limited), appeared to help load the teens luggage onto trolleys and usher them into the platform in pairs.

Harry and Sheridan, accompanied by Padfoot, went first. Harry was just going to walk through the entrance, but when Sheridan realized what they were going to do – that is, walk through a wall – he broke into a full-scale run, Padfoot following eagerly. Harry found himself following, to his mild surprise. Just before they hit, Shi leaped onto the lower bars of the trolley and hung on tight, obviously enjoying himself if the manic grin was anything to go by.

The three of them burst through into the hustle and bustle of Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, Sheridan dropping his feet to the ground and skidding abruptly to a halt, miraculously avoiding bowling anyone over. The American gaped at the gleaming behemoth that was the Hogwarts Express, swarming with students, owls, cats, rats, luggage, and parents there to see their children off.

Ron, coming up behind them with Ginny, grinned at Shi's wondering expression. "That, mate," he said with an obvious sense of pride, clapping a hand to Shi's shoulder, "is the Hogwarts Express."

"It's … a big. Red. Train," Sheridan slowly stated. Harry and Ron exchanged grins as Shi cocked his head slightly and pronounced his verdict – "Wick_ed_, dude."

Harry and Ron laughed at this solemn statement, ignoring Hermione, who had just arrived with Sara and was staring at them inquisitively, wondering _why_, exactly, they were laughing. She concluded after a moment's thought that it must have been something Shi had said. "We have to get to the prefect's car, Ron," she reminded him.

"Oh – oh, yeah!" Ron exclaimed, suddenly remembering. "Hey, save us a seat, Harry, will you?"

"Sure," Harry promised as the two prefects walked away, bickering about something or other. He looked about for Ginny and found her with Sara and a few of her own friends from school, walking away in the opposite direction. Which left him with Sheridan.

This should prove _very_ interesting.

Sirius woofed, grabbing his attention, and danced about at Harry's feet before rearing up and placing his front paws on Harry's shoulders. Harry laughed and gave him a giant bear hug as the large dog slobbered all over his face.

"Gah! Cut it _out, _Snuffles!" he demanded, shoving him down to keep him from licking his face anymore. "I'll miss you too, alright?"

Sirius woofed happily, bouncing up and down in the way only a dog can.

Harry glanced over at Sheridan and got a nasty feeling in his stomach as he saw Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle approaching. He hurriedly pushed on his trolley to draw level with Shi (who was a little ways off on account of his wild entrance) as Malfoy spoke to the werewolf.

"I haven't seen you around here before," the blond drawled. "You must be an exchange student."

Sheridan nodded, smiling at Malfoy in a readily friendly fashion. "Yep! Well, sort of. I think. Actually, I'm not quite sure. I'm from America." He leaned forwards over his trolley, extending his hand, which Malfoy, after looking momentarily startled, shook briskly.

"I'm Malfoy – Draco Malfoy," the Slytherin informed him.

Shi immediately affected an English accent as he replied with a straight face, "Bond. James Bond."

Malfoy's face was predictably blank as Sheridan laughed and continued, "No, I'm actually Sheridan Parker."

"Ah." Malfoy visibly decided to ignore the previous comment and continued, "I'm in Slytherin, you know – it's one of the better houses, for people with ambition -"

Harry felt that _now_ would be the time to butt in. "I see you've met the scum of the school, Shi," he interrupted, addressing Sheridan in a friendly, deliberately conversational tone. "Sorry you had to meet _Malfoy_ first."

Malfoy scowled. "I see you've already met _Potter_," he spat. "Well, don't be fooled by his fame – I should warn you, he's a spoiled attention seeker who thinks he's better than everyone else."

Sheridan cocked his head quizzically at Malfoy, genuinely puzzled. "No, he's not," he replied, sounding confused. "I think you've got the wrong idea … or maybe the wrong person … I've known Harry for a while now, and he's none of that."

Malfoy looked like he'd been hit in the face with dragon dung – Harry had to forcibly withhold a laugh that bubbled up inside him at the sight. The blond hesitated for a moment before sweeping disgustedly away, Crabbe and Goyle hurriedly following. Shi stared after them for a moment, a faint, puzzled frown on his face.

"Shi?" Harry queried after a moment of this.

"What a jerk. He doesn't even know you, Harry. That was awfully rude of him," the werewolf replied, before he turned and, struggling a bit, hoisted his heavy trunk up into the train. Harry followed, though with a bit less effort than his diminutive companion.

They wandered about for a bit, Harry in the lead, looking for an empty compartment. Shi greeted everyone with a grin and a wave, and most people seemed to take either an immediate shine to him, or stare at him oddly as if wondering if he was smoking something. The latter reactions were much more common than the first, but Harry still felt a little resentful towards them – Shi was _his_ friend, after all. These people didn't know him, not at all – they just saw the friendly smile, the energetic wave. They just liked him because he was being friendly, or had good looks, or just because.

Before Harry had much time to puzzle over this strange, unexpected feeling, he found Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood sitting alone in a compartment in the back of the train. Neville, upon seeing Harry, waved happily, smiling. "Hey, Harry!" the accident-prone boy exclaimed. "You want to sit with us?"

"Sure," Harry replied, smiling with relief. He'd been starting to worry that they'd never find a compartment with enough seats for Ron and Hermione.

"Who's your friend?" Luna asked, serenely indicating Sheridan, who had followed Harry cautiously into the compartment.

"Sheridan Parker," Shi replied for himself, extending a hand to Luna, who inspected it with her slightly vacant gaze before asking him, "Were you attacked by Nefronious Panzars?"

"Why do you ask?" Shi asked her curiously.

"Well …" She regarded him solemnly with her slightly protruding eyes. "Your hair is such a strange color … and your eyes as well … I thought for sure you must've had a close encounter with a Nefronious Panzar."

"What's that labeled as – Close Encounters of the Panzaric Kind?" Shi inquired musingly, causing Harry and Neville to stare at him, not understanding his decidedly American brand of humor. "No, sorry, not quite."

"Oh," Luna replied, sounding no less interested. "So you're a werewolf, then?"

Neville gasped slightly in shock, staring first at Luna, then at Harry for conformation, then at Shi, who looked mildly startled and answered, "Err … well, I'd be obliged if you didn't spread it around, y'know."

"Of course," she agreed serenely. "I'm Luna Lovegood, by the way."

"I-I'm Neville Longbottom," Neville added, stuttering a bit but thoroughly willing to be friendly, even if he did seem slightly overwhelmed by the … well, the overall _oddness_ of Sheridan.

"Nice to meet'cha, Neville," Shi answered cheerily, grinning.

Harry smiled slightly at Neville, who was looking at Sheridan with an expression that clearly said, _What kind of drugs is he on?_. "You get used to it – he's not as bad as you might think," he reassured the other boy.

"I'm from America," Shi added, as if that explained everything. Which, Harry realized after a moment of reflection, it probably did.

"So … Luna … find any Crumple-Horned Snorkacks?" Harry asked the Ravenclaw, vaguely remembering her saying something about going on an expedition over summer break with her father to find them.

"No," she replied. "But we uncovered a rather nasty infestation of nargles and zargles, so it was alright."

"Ah – are zargles like nargles?" Harry wondered, asking the first thing that came to his mind after Luna's typically strange reply.

"Oh, no, not at all," she explained. "Zargles _hate_ mistletoe."

" …Ah." Harry couldn't think of anything else to say, so he chatted with Neville about the OWL test results (Neville got an 'O' in Herbology and an 'E' in Charms, of which he was very proud). Sheridan and Luna launched immediately into a serious discussion about what sounded like pinecones that exploded when kicked by hapless and unsuspecting mountain hikers.

After about ten minutes or so, Ron and Hermione showed up. Hermione was looking slightly murderous, although she calmed down after Shi asked anxiously if anyone had killed her cat, and if not then why was she so mad? Ron explained that Malfoy was just using his badge to bully kids again, as per usual, and, also as usual, Hermione had protested … with less-than-satisfactory results.

"Hey, what's a 'prefect', anyways?" Sheridan inquired. "I've never heard of them before."

Ron stammered, struggling slightly with the concept of a school with no prefects, while Hermione launched into a long and involved explanation that left everyone more confused than anything. Harry and Neville then attempted to explain in a clearer manner, with Luna breaking in every once in a while to mention things such as "The Great Prefect Revolt of '68". Finally, when they finished, Shi concluded, "Sooo … kinda like a Hall Monitor who can give detention."

"Sure," Harry agreed, although he very much suspected that there was a bit more to it than that.

Just then, the serving witch came by, rolling her trolley of goodies. Harry bought a large bundle of candy for everyone, even though Neville and Hermione had protested (Ron was used to it, and Shi and Luna knew better than to pass up free food). Soon, they were all settled in, contentedly munching Chocolate Frogs and Pumpkin Pasties, watching Sheridan experiment on how long a Licorice Wand could stretch before it breaks (using his mouth and right hand). He was still intent upon stretching it (it was about three feet long by then), when Crookshanks decided enough was enough and clawed his way out of his basket, severely scratching several ankles in the process. The large cat surveyed the compartment before suddenly pouncing atop of Sheridan's lap and starting to work on swallowing the stretched-thin Licorice Wand whole.

"Hey!" Shi protested laughingly. "That's _my_ Licorice Twizzler of Doom!"

"'Twizzler of Doom'?" Ron repeated, as if unsure he had heard correctly.

"Yeah – oh dammit, he ate the whole thing." Shi pouted unhappily, but the puppy-dog effect was ruined by the sight of surly Crookshanks purring happily and licking the werewolf's licorice-sticky fingers. Hermione attempted to scoop the cat off of Shi's lap, but Crookshanks protested, yowling and digging his claws into Sheridan's knees and thighs, causing him to yelp.

Soon, however, the cat was successfully removed as the six teenagers pulled on their school robes. Looking about at everyone's house badges and colors, Sheridan sighed. "I feel so left out and – and – _colorless_," he complained in his usual melodramatic manner.

"I expect you'll be sorted after the first years," Hermione assured him, causing him to perk up enough to ask, "First years are sixth graders, right?" Harry, puzzling over the statement for a moment, decided that it was an odd American concept and he shouldn't comment.

As they made their way out of the train, into the light drizzle that had been going on all afternoon, they immediately spotted Hagrid's huge form shouting "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" When he spotted them, he called, "Harry! Ron, Hermione, yeh doin' all righ'?" When they all nodded, he noticed Sheridan, who was busy pulling his trunk out of a rather large puddle.

"Oh, yeh must be Sheridan Parker!" the gamekeeper exclaimed. "Ye're supposed t' meet Professor McGonagall once yeh get inside!"

"'Kay," Shi replied, grinning at Hagrid in a friendly fashion before following his friends over to the thestral-drawn carriages.

"Oh, wow! You've got thestrals!" Sheridan exclaimed excitedly when they reached an empty carriage. "I didn't know they looked so freaky, though …" He stared straight at the phantom-like dragon-horses, obviously amazed, which surprised Harry – the only people who could see thestrals were those who had seen death. But then, Harry had never asked if Shi had ever seen anyone die. He made a mental note to ask him about it sometime.

They all piled into the carriage, out of the rain (Crookshanks hissing with displeasure the entire time), and sat back as the carriages pulled them towards the bright, welcoming lights of Hogwarts – for Harry, the warm and friendly lights of home.

* * *

A/N: **((announcers voice))** And _now_, for the most stu_pen_dous and _awe_some event: review replies!: And , for the most studous and some event: review replies! 

**book-zealot: **Thank you very very much! I'm over_joyed_ that you like my take on Harry. I _hate_ it when people make him uber-depressed, he's doesn't strike me as a guy that can stay depressed for very long, though he can be angry for practically _ever_. He's a strong leader, but he's also a teenage boy, with all that that implies. And, sorry, but I'm planning on remaining single for a while ... **((giggles))**.

**elle:** I'm very glad you think so! I've been trying so hard to keep up the essential chemistry of the Trio and not leave anyone out! It's harder than it seems. I'm very glad you like it!

**Alphamech:** Well, I'm really really glad you like my story! But, sorry, I've already got a rather extensive plotline, and I clearly stated in the first chapter that this was going to be a Harry/Sheridan fic. It's going to be _awfully_ mild though, and won't really start up for some time, so please keep reading! And I didn't really intend the four to be Neo-Marauders, though I'm considering wether or not to make them Animagus. It's still under debate at the moment. Thank you for the review!

**Satio:** Hello hello hello! _Very_ funny story - that must've earned you some odd looks, eh? I'm glad you like the 'breather' chapters - I don't do them on purpose, actually, but they write themselves like that, and they seem to fit. And I wanted to delve a little deeper into Sheridan's family history, as well. There's still plenty more under wraps, though!

And - YES! I DID SHERIDAN'S PARENTS RIGHT! You're _supposed_ to hate them. _I _hate them. I created them to be hated, and I'm glad I made them despise-able! See, the thing is, Sheridan doesn't hate them. Not really. They're his _parents_, and ... well, you never really want to give up on them, do you? Not really, anyways. He _knows_ that their motions of love are really empty. He knows they don't really care about him. Teens know stuff like that, he's not stupid. But they're still his parents, and he's the sort of person who wants to see the best in people. Kinda like Dumbledore, actually. He'll defend them because he still loves them, but he doesn't know _why_ he still loves them, and why he can't bring himself to hate them. He's rather confused, poor guy. Personally, I agree with Harry's views on Shi's parents - they should have kept trying, or at least shouldn't keep _lying_ to Sheridan - that can be worse than outright hate, in a way. (You don't need abusive relations to have a messed-up kid. People tend not to realize this.)

Well. That was a long explanation. Sorry. And I will never ever _ever_ tell you to stuff it. If you give me a _novel_, I will be _thrilled_. Seriously. And I'm glad Shi's alive and kickin' in your head! People are _never_ what you see at first. There's always a bunch of hidden layers underneath. Same thing with Sheridan. And no, I don't work for the devil (unless you're, like, an uber-Catholic and believe that this pairing makes me a Satanist), and I despise tax collectors along with the rest of humanity. Until next time!

**shedoc:** Glad you liked it! Err ... kicking whose butt? I'm a bit confused ... whose butts are we kicking? Merry Christmas to you, too!

**Twin Tails Speed:** Well, they're not really like the Marauders, at least not in the pranking sort of way ... I'm considering having them become Animagus, but other than that I think that their group should really develop their own personality. I mean, they don't exactly fit into the Marauders mold, they've developed under _completely_ different conditions. Still, I hope you continue to enjoy it!

**AlyRaven:** I'd _love_ to be e-mail pals, but I don't have the time for one at the moment, sadly. School's a killer. Ask again some other time? And thanks for reviewing!

Keep the reviews coming, you know ya'll make my day!

**Review**_Review_Review

"_Smile, and the world will smile with you. Laugh, and they'll all think you're on drugs." -Unknown_


	12. Home Again

A/N: Okay! I'll admit it! I'm a dirty, dirty liar and I don't deserve to live, save to write this story. I'm bad. I'm very, very bad. I deserve many slaps on the wrist and attacks on my physical person. I'm very, very sorry that this chapter took so long, but the stupid thing had me completely stymied! I got halfway through and couldn't get anywhere for _ages_!

Oh, and much of the Sorting Hat's song belongs to the fifth book. I changed it as much as I could, but do you have any idea how _hard_ those things are to _write_? I near killed myself as it is!

Anyways, here you go, with much apologies and self-imposed guilt. Replies to my amazing reviewers are at the bottom, as always.

* * *

The many students disembarking from the horseless carriages immediately began swarming hurriedly into Hogwarts, often taking the steps two or more at a time in an effort to get out of the rain, which had, in the time the carriages had taken to arrive at the castle, escalated into a veritable downpour. The younger students shrieked with surprise when immediately drenched upon exiting the carriages, while the older students shouted indignantly and made use of their superior height and size to push their way indoors.

Harry and his friends plunged grimly forwards through the wet sea of students by way of judiciously placed elbows, a few well-timed shoves, and a decent ability to dodge out of the way. Though they all strived to stick close together, Ron had to hastily grab onto Sheridan's collar more than once in order to keep the smaller boy from being trampled by packs of aggressive seventh-years, nearly choking the young werewolf in the process. Neville and Luna fared little better, though they had a bit more height than Sheridan and so were more easily noticeable. But then, hardly anyone could see anything through the deluge of rain, it was coming down so hard.

Finally, however, they managed to force their way into the dry, warm interior of Hogwarts castle. Sheridan, after gawking at the vast entrance hall and various paintings, set off looking for Professor McGonagall – without the faintest idea as to where she might be. Exchanging amused grins, Harry and Ron set off to help their friend look while Hermione went off to, as Ron put it, "do prefect-type things". Ron apparently did not feel the need to assist her in her duties, preferring to remain with Harry and Shi.

"Mr. Parker!" a brusque, familiar voice called suddenly from out of the soaked crowd. Professor McGonagall suddenly materialized in front of the three boys. "Mr. Parker," she repeated sternly to Sheridan, who was looking at her quizzically as if to say, 'Who, _me_?'. "It's about time," she informed him in her usual, arch manner. "If you would please come with me now." Sara already stood behind the stern professor, looking nervous and slightly impatient.

Sheridan glanced back at Harry and Ron, who grinned at him reassuringly – Merlin knew _anyone_ would need reassurance when faced with an impatient McGonagall – before following McGonagall into the crowd, quickly vanishing.

Ron and Harry made their way fairly quickly into the Great Hall, sliding into a few empty seats at the far end of the Gryffindor table. Hermione joined them a few moments later, glaring at Ron for not joining her in their prefect duties, who then concentrated on studiously ignoring her. The trio dubiously eyed the sopping first-years, who were huddled closely together as much out of nervousness as out of chill.

Harry, looking around, spotted Professor Stanton sitting up at the staff table, her pointed hat so lopsided that it almost gave the impression of hanging off of one ear. Hagrid was seated next to her, looking enormous as always in his giant moleskin coat, which was sopping with rain. Harry then searched for Snape, and received a shock when he realized that the Potions master was missing. In his place was a rather rotund person, old but not nearly as old as Dumbledore, with a self-satisfied grin, chatting amiably with Professor McGonagall.

"Hermione," Harry started, unsure as to what to make of this unexpected development; "Snape's not up there. And who's the new professor?"

Hermione stared at Harry in surprise before twisting around to see that Harry was, indeed, correct; the absence of the scowling Potions Master was rather noticeable. "I don't know," she said wonderingly.

"Maybe he got sacked," Ron suggested hopefully.

"Or maybe he really _was_ on Voldemort's side," Harry added darkly, eyes narrowing in remembered hatred.

"Harry!" Hermione scolded, frowning disapprovingly at him. She was unable to reprimand him further, however; a hush fell all around the Great Hall as the Sorting Hat, which sat (just as always) on the stool in front of the professor's table, opened the rip near the top of its point and broke into song:

"_A thousand years and more ago,_

_When I was freshly sewn,_

_The founders four of Hogwarts,_

_Created this, our home._

_Friendship held the founders fast,_

_And together they sought learning;_

_For never did they ever dream,_

_Their friendship might be turning._

_For Gryffindor and Slytherin_

_Were ever the best of friends;_

_And Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff_

_Never had to make amends._

_So how could such friendships, set in stone,_

_Crumble down and fall?_

_I shall tell you, for I was there;_

_The whole story I recall._

_Said Ravenclaw, "I'll teach those whose_

_Cleverness is surest."_

_Said Slytherin, "I'll teach just those whose_

_Bloodlines run the purest."_

_Said Gryffindor, "I'll teach all those_

_With courage in their hearts."_

_Said Hufflepuff, "I'll teach them all,_

_Whether they like sports or arts."_

_But despite all these differences,_

_The four friends did not mind,_

_For each had his or her own House,_

_In which to choose their kind._

_For example, Slytherin,_

_Favored cunning and ambition._

_And Ravenclaw took only those,_

_Of smarts and intuition._

_Gryffindor best honored those,_

_Whose boldness far outshone the rest._

_Good Hufflepuff, she took the lot,_

_And taught as she knew best._

_And so the Houses and their founders_

_Remained friends fast and true._

_And so Hogwarts was united,_

_For several happy years and two._

_But soon dissension entered us,_

_Taking hold in doubts and fears._

_Soon the Houses turned upon_

_Each other, with conflict clear._

_For quite some time, the school, it seemed,_

_Might reach an early end._

_All the fighting and the dueling,_

_And attack of friend on friend._

_At last, there came a sorry day,_

_When Slytherin left the school._

_And though the discord faded,_

_He left us with sorrow cruel._

_And never since the ambitious founder_

_Left, leaving only three,_

_Has harmony settled over the school,_

_As once was meant to be._

_Now I, the Sorting Hat, sit here,_

_And you all know what's to come,_

_I'll sort you to your Houses,_

_And have that become your home._

_But, though I am bound to divide you all,_

_Still I fear that I'm mistaken._

_Still I wonder whether Sorting_

_Will a sorry ending hasten._

_Oh, know the dangers, all of you,_

_For outside deadly foes,_

_Lurk outside our Hogwarts school,_

_And threaten to have her close._

_We must unite the Houses,_

_Else we shall be doomed from within._

_I have told you, I have warned you …_

_Let the Sorting now begin._"

Just as last year, the applause after the Sorting Hat's song was punctuated with whispers and mutterings. The Hat felt duty-bound to give advice and warnings to the school when threatening times occurred. All in all, it was basically the same as last year's song – stand together as friends and comrades, or Hogwarts will surely fall. Harry felt that, essentially, this was good advice; but the chances of Slytherin and Gryffindor even behaving _civilly_ towards one another, much less becoming _friends_, was substantially less than zero.

Professor McGonagall then stepped forwards, holding a long scroll in front of herself. "Arquette, Joan!" she called out, adjusting her spectacles briefly before reassuming her stern glare at the Great Hall at large.

A small, trembling girl with braided brown hair walked hesitantly up and slipped the hat onto her head. The Hat paused a moment, causing her expression to take a sharp drop, before shouting, "RAVENCLAW!"

"Atta, Gregory!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Boyd, Hannah!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

And so it went. "Clyde, Euan" became the first new Gryffindor, to thunderous rounds of applause from their table. Harry lost focus after "Dell, Holly!" ("RAVENCLAW!"), preferring to scan the Great Hall, wondering where Sheridan was, and Professor Snape, for that matter. He glanced at the new professor briefly, and was surprised to see the man catch his eye and wave quickly, smiling in a congenial way. Harry quickly looked away – he wasn't sure why.

Finally, "Zarkowski, Peter" became a Hufflepuff, and the Hall began to stir expectantly, many students fixing their eyes upon the golden plates that sat upon the table, gleaming innocently. Dumbledore stood up and raised his hands for silence, which he immediately received.

"Before we tuck in to our most excellent feast, I have an announcement or three to make. Firstly, please welcome two new students who have recently been welcomed into our prestigious school! Sara Stanton, from Ireland, who will be entering fifth year-" Sara walked out from behind a doorway to the side of the staff table to stand beside McGonagall; "- and Sheridan Parker, from America, who will be entering sixth year." The students clapped politely as Sheridan stepped forwards, looking slightly annoyed that Sara turned out to be marginally taller than him when they stood side by side.

Sara sat on the stool first, fidgeting slightly in impatience as the hat was placed on her head. The Sorting Hat yelled out almost immediately, "RAVENCLAW!"

Sara set the hat down and, smiling broadly, raced over to the madly cheering Ravenclaw table, where she was immediately welcomed. Harry thought he spotted Cho Chang near Sara, but she turned her head quickly in the opposite direction, and Harry returned his attention to the Sorting.

Sheridan then took his turn, plopping down onto the stool and early dropping the hat onto his head. The hat immediately slid forwards and covered the teen's eyes, who didn't seem bothered in the least, but actually rather amused.

There were several long moments while the hat pondered, in which Shi fidgeted restlessly underneath the battered hat, clearly impatient to get moving once more. If the Hat had lips, Harry had a feeling it would be pursing them in an exasperated manner.

Finally, the rip near the top opened, and; "GRYFFINDOR!" The aforementioned table exploded into claps and cheers, none louder than the ones from Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville. Shi, grinning broadly, quickly made his way to the table and slid into an empty seat beside Hermione.

Dumbledore once more raised his hands until the clapping and cheering died down and silence returned. "Secondly," the elderly headmaster continued, "we have two new teachers to welcome into our home! Professor Stanton, who will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts-" Stanton smiled and waved while many students cheered – most of them from the teenaged boy population. Harry wondered as he clapped whether those boys realized that the pretty new teacher was in her thirties and had a daughter who had just been Sorted into fifth year. Well, they'd find out soon enough.

"- and Professor Slughorn, who will be teaching Potions class for the time being," Dumbledore concluded. The short, stout little man sitting by Professor McGonagall waved amiably at the Great Hall. The cheers were a bit more scattered this time, but no less loud.

"And now – to our feast!" With this proclamation, Dumbledore once more seated himself with a grand sweeping of robes, and there was a thunderous din as the students helped themselves to the delicious food that had appeared on the table just moments before.

Ron, Harry, and Sheridan immediately dived for the food, Hermione shaking her head and "tsk-tsking" disapprovingly as she served herself in a rather more sedate manner. The boys ignored her, focusing on stuffing their faces despite the amount of candy they had consumed earlier on the train.

"_How_ boys can eat so much, I _don't_ know," Hermione muttered in mild disgust, rolling her eyes along with Ginny, though she continued to pass them plates and bowls from time to time.

By the time the desserts appeared, all four of them were completely stuffed, though somehow they managed to eat at least a little bit of their choice treats. Hermione and Harry helped themselves to some treacle tarts, Ron simply grabbed whatever was closest, and Sheridan nibbled on a square of fudge, only managing to finish half of it.

Finally, they were finished – the feast was done with, and most students were ready to go to their dormitories, tired from the long day. Harry leaned back contentedly, his stomach pleasantly full and warm, his mind relaxed and drifty. Murmurs of approval made their rounds as Dumbledore stood up to give them one last speech and then dismissal.

"Before I release you all to return to your most excellent beds," Dumbledore began, "there are a few things I'd like to say. As I'm sure most of you are aware, Voldemort and most of his followers are at loose. This is a dark time for all of us." He paused and glanced about the hall – everyone was giving the headmaster their full attention. He took a breath and continued; "But even in the midst of darkness, some light can be found – if one can only be reminded to look. Therefore, I beg of you – all of you – put aside your differences, your disputes and your disagreements. We must all band together if we are to remain strong. Gryffindor and Slytherin, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, must all strive to get along. We are _all_ family, here in Hogwarts. Please," he weighed a solemn look upon each of the tables; "consider this while you are here."

Silence reigned throughout the hall. All the students were staring at the headmaster – with awe, fright, concern, or disbelief. Many houses shot furtive glances at the other tables, trying not to be seen.

"And with that as our conclusion," Dumbledore announced after a moments pause; "you may all return to your houses. Ta!"

The deafening rumble of hundreds of students standing to leave filled the Great Hall, punctuated with the loud hum of a thousand conversations concerning Dumbledore's unexpected speech.

"Can you believe it?" Ron exclaimed as soon as they were standing. "Gryffindors and Slytherins, as best mates? What the bloody hell does Dumbledore _think_ is gonna happen?"

"Well, _I_ think he may be on to something, Ron," Hermione replied. "I mean, don't you ever feel that all this house rivalry is a bit … well, childish?"

Ron stared at her, eyes wide. "_C-childish_?" he exclaimed, ears reddening to a brilliant hue.

Hermione looked embarrassed, but she stubbornly held her stance. "Yes," she reiterated, glaring at Ron. "And we just _might_ stand a better chance against You-Know-Who if we _weren't_ divided from the inside!" With that, she whirled about and made her way through the hallway, calling "First years! Gryffindor first years, this way!"

Ron gaped after her, speechless. He stood there for a moment, then turned to Harry, eyes wide. "She … I mean, she just …" he stammered, dumbstruck. "I mean … she's mental, right?"

"Um ... sure, right," Harry hurriedly replied, not wanting to wind up in the middle of yet another of his friend's spats. They were vicious enough from the sidelines. "Ah – before you go, what's the password?"

"_Rhisium cansius_," Ron replied absently. "I should … probably go do … prefect duties, and such …" Continuing to mumble like that to himself, he started off after the first years and Hermione, seeming a bit confused.

Harry shook his head and sighed. He turned and beckoned to Sheridan, who was standing just beside him, looking a bit dazed by the sheer size of the castle. "Come on, Shi," he urged, starting up a stairway. "We want to get to the common room before they do, if we want to avoid the fight."

"Fight?" Sheridan queried, following him, taking two steps at a time. "Who's fighting?"

Harry shot him an incredulous look. "Ron and Hermione, who else?" he asked rhetorically. "Well, maybe they won't, but I don't want to get dragged into it, do you?"

Sheridan shook his head vigorously as they started on another set of stairs, and gave out a surprised shout as it started to move.

"Oh, sorry," Harry said hurriedly, "It's all right, the staircases move sometimes, it's normal, really …"

Sheridan nodded, but still clung tightly to the stone railing, looking down at the floor far below with a slightly squeamish expression. Harry noticed, and made a mental note to avoid the moving staircases when at all possible with Shi.

Fortunately, they made it to the Gryffindor common room without further incident, although they didn't manage to beat Hermione and Ron to it. The two were sitting on opposite sides of the common room, Ron talking with Seamus and Dean, Hermione reading a book by the fire, and both very studiously ignoring the other.

Ron turned as the two entered the portrait hole, and leaped on Sheridan as a distraction. "Hey, Dean, Seamus!" he called a bit too loudly than necessary; "You haven't met Shi yet, have you?" Harry frowned, first at Ron, then Hermione, and Sheridan didn't look too happy at being dragged into the momentary spotlight.

The introductions made their rounds, both Seamus and Dean intrigued at the thought of a foreigner living with them. They practically had to physically restrain Dean from kidnapping the American when he discovered that Sheridan understood, and followed slightly, football, despite calling it "soccer". Dean spent an entire conversation trying to correct Shi's American euphemisms, with limited results.

Sometime in the middle of all this, Hermione stood up with a huff, shut her book decisively, and made her deliberate way up the stairs to the girls dormitory. Harry watched her go, shaking his head slightly – he knew that the two of them would be talking to one another again by tomorrow morning, and bickering by lunch.

Soon, however, the talking gave in to huge yawns, and the five boys, six since Neville had showed up halfway through one of Dean's many football rants, made their way to their dormitory.

Instead of the usual five four-poster beds, there was a sixth stationed at the end of the semi-circled the beds formed. It made the tower seem a little smaller, but nobody really minded. Sheridan was quite surprised to find his luggage already there and unpacked, but was too tired to comment much.

At differing rates of speed, the boys changed into their pajamas, said their good-nights, and collapsed onto their beds, welcoming the soft blackness of sleep. Harry stretched as he set his glasses on the nightstand, glad to be back in his four-poster bed, in Gryffindor tower, the only place that had ever felt like home to him. "It's good to be back," he murmured drowsily before dropping off into a dark, dreamless sleep.

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A/N: And now, for my most beloved and adored reviewers, who are possessed of immense patience and forgiveness ... I hope ...

**Light Avatar:** Thank you so much! I'm sorry it wasn't soon, but I got there in the end!

**Azilie:** I'm so glad so many people like Sheridan! Thanks a bundle!

**Satio: **Wow. Thank you _so_ much. I'm honored you think so highly of my work - and you're right, these latest chapters are much better than what I started out with. I'm very sorry - once again - that this is so very, very late. But school's out! Tests are over! Huzzah, and all that sort of stuff. I'm glad you liked so much of that chapter, it was one of thefunnest I've ever written! (And I know 'funnest' is not a word.) I hope this chapter lives up to your standards!

**Twin Tails Speed:** Again, all I can say is - thank you, and, _I'm soooo sorry ..._

**Wonder Girl III:** I'm glad you share my sense of humor! I hope this one was just as fun!


	13. Green Eggs and Ham

**A/N:** WAAAHOOOOO! I did it! I did it! I really really did it! Wahey! I AM NINJA!

Ahem. In other words - I updated! I recovered my inspiration! _I did it before I hit the "one year" mark_!

**((sniff))** I'm so proud of me.

But - ye gads! Last chapter had no quote! Therefore, the quote for last chapter shall be at the beginning of this one, and the quote for _this_ chapter will be at the _bottom_. 'Kay?

Now ... on with the plot! Yes, this, THE LONGEST CHAPTER YET WRITTEN, actually moves the plot along! Remember, pass it on - _breakfast is the most important meal of the day_. Replies to _my preciousss ..._ I mean, my reviewers ... will be at the bottom.

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"_Friendship with one's self is all important, because without it one cannot be friends with anyone else in the world." -- Eleanor Roosevelt

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_

**Green Eggs and Ham**

The first real day of school at Hogwarts dawned bright and clear. Gryffindor tower was filled with students sleeping peacefully in their four-poster beds – but in the sixth-year boys' dormitory, that peace was abruptly shattered.

"BRRRIIIIING! BRRRIIIIING! BRR-ZAP! BRR-ZAP!"

Harry shot up and out of his bed with a startled shout, clapping his hands to his ears in an effort to block out the sudden, piercing din. Across the room, the other boys were also startled out of sleep by the raucous clamor that seemed to be filling the room. Sheridan, tangled in his bed-sheets from restless sleeping, gave a sort of half-jump of surprise before losing his balance and falling to the carpeted floor with a loud "THUMP" and "Aaaaghck!", barely audible over the remarkable din, dragging most of his bed-sheets with him.

"NEVILLE!" Ron hollered over the noise, which was now giving up its failed imitation of an alarm clock in favor of a "RACKA-RACKA-RACKA" sound not unlike a very loud train. "WHAT THE BLOODY _HELL_ IS DOING THAT!" The red-head had wrapped his pillow around his head and was pinning the ends over his ears in a vain attempt to shut out the ruckus.

"I'M SORRY!" the accident-prone boy yelled in reply, while trying vainly to capture a strange contraption dancing about on his bed-side table with his own pillow. "HELP ME TURN IT OFF!"

Harry, Dean, Seamus, and Ron immediately leaped forwards and began walloping Neville's bed-stand, trying to pin down the contraption down, an endeavor hindered by the need to continue covering their ears. Sheridan, still struggling in his tangled cocoon of sheets, almost managed to stand upright before falling to the floor once more. His confused flailing was amplified by the tremendous noise.

Finally, Harry's noise-addled brain managed to remind him that he was, in fact, a wizard. He grabbed his wand from his bedside table, his hand luckily landing on it on the first try, before squinting his blurry eyes in an attempt to aim at the dancing figure. "MOVE!" he hollered at his roommates, who quickly fell away from the thing as Harry bellowed, "RICTUMSEMPRA!"

A jet of red light shot out of his wand and hit the thing squarely, knocking it into the stone wall and, blessedly, quieting it. Silence abruptly fell as the boys stood panting about Neville's bed. Harry, his ears ringing, gave an indecipherable grunt before fumbling his way back to his bed-stand and picking up his glasses.

Sheridan, having finally managed to free himself from his bedsheets, poked his head over the side of his bed and asked hoarsely; "What th' effing _hell_ was _that_?"

"I'm sorry," Neville said again, lowering his pillow to his bed once more as Dean reached behind the small table and pulled out the … _thing_. It was a rounded, black little contraption, with several knobs and edges sticking out of it. Knobby little pegs at the bottom of it whirred and twitched with rapid movement, obviously meant to be legs of some sort. The whole thing was about as big as an outstretched hand, and certainly did not look capable of producing the tremendous noise of a few moments ago.

"I know what that is," Seamus said after a moment. "It's a Gerrup. It's some sort of alarm …"

"Yes," Neville agreed, looking miserable. "My gran made me take it, so I wouldn't be late to classes … but I thought I left it locked in my trunk."

"It must've crawled its way out," Ron said wonderingly, looking at Neville's trunk, which was slightly ajar and dented at the edges.

Sheridan, who had now come over to stare at the Gerrup with the rest of the boys, said in a slightly fearful tone, "My sis told me about these. She used to have a roommate with one of them. She said they're damn well near _impossible_ to get rid of, or lock up, or anything like that."

"Well, we're going to _have_ to get rid of it somehow," Harry said, walking back over with a finger dug into one ear in an effort to halt the ringing; "if we don't want to wake up to _that_ every morning."

"Maybe if we stuffed it in a box with some pillows, and put _Silencio_ and a locking charm on it …" Dean suggested, looking hopeful.

"Let's do that," Ron agreed, still shaking his head from side to side in order to get rid of the aftermath of the Gerrup's overly-enthusiastic wake-up call. "Even if it got out, we wouldn't be able to hear it, right?"

With assorted mumbles and groans, the boys dispersed to get dressed and ready for their first day back at Hogwarts. Harry, very much amused, had to help Sheridan with his school tie after catching him attempting to tie it in a large bow. The American boy seemed rather confounded by the prospect of school uniforms. "It doesn't make _sense_," he complained, to immediate replies of, "You're in England now, mate!", and "Welcome to a _proper_ country, Yank!"

"America is _so_ a proper country!" Sheridan protested as the sixth year boys clattered down the stairs into the common room below; "And I am _not_ a Yankee, that's them folks up north! _I'm_ from the _south_." His complaint was almost comically accented by his southern drawl, which resurfaced with his consternation and turned "south" into "sa-owth".

"Well, excuse us," Seamus replied, grinning at the indignant look on Sheridan's pale face. "But you're American, which means you're still a Yank to us!"

"What on _earth_ are you people arguing about _now_?" Harry heard a familiar voice demand, as Hermione appeared from where she'd been sitting in an over-stuffed armchair turned away from the stairs, several large textbooks tucked neatly under her arm.

"They keep calling me a Yank," Shi grumbled, glaring at the other five boys surrounding him, who only offered wide grins in return. "I'm _not_."

Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation as she shifted her load of books from one arm to the other. "Does it _really _matter _all_ that much?" The question was directed at all of them, and though Sheridan looked properly chastised, she didn't wait for a reply. "_Boys_. Honestly."

"What are all the books for?" Ron inquired curiously – a peace offering of sorts, after last night. At least, Harry _thought_ it was …

Hermione stared blankly at him for a moment, before evidently deciding to accept peace and replying shortly, "I was studying."

"_Studying_?" Ron exclaimed incredulously, his eyes growing huge with shock. "But we haven't even had any _classes_ yet! How can you be studying?"

"One must always be prepared," she replied irritably, glaring at him. "Besides, we're sixth years now. The course work is going to be _much_ more advanced, and I want to be sure I'm all caught up."

"Caught up? You're five bloody yards ahead!"

"Well, Ron, if you'd just apply yourself, then _you _could be a bit ahead as well!"

Harry sighed, part in exasperation, part relief, as his two friends fell back onto their usual bickering as they all piled out of the portrait hole and headed down to the Great Hall, busying himself with pointing out landmarks to Sheridan so the American boy could at least find his way back to the common room, if no place else. Sheridan looked slightly confounded with all the twists and turns the old castle offered, and mostly simply nodded his head quickly while trying to commit all of Harry's advice to memory.

"You know, it'd be faster if you used a couple of the moving staircases," Harry offered at one point, but Sheridan only gave him a squeamish look, saying he'd think about it.

They made it to the Great Hall without too many mishaps, although they had to drag Sheridan away from a few of the suits of armor frequenting the halls – he'd kept lifting their visors and looking down, as though he'd catch a sprite inside them or something.

"But _why_ do they move?" he kept asking as they entered the Great Hall. "What's the _point_?"

All queries of that sort were soon silenced by the arrival of breakfast. The four of them eagerly tucked in to an abundance of excellent eggs, bacon, ham, porridge, and buttered toast. Sheridan took a sip of pumpkin juice at some point, and frowned. "This orange juice tastes funny," he commented to the world at large.

"That's because it's pumpkin juice, mate," Ron replied absently before returning to his description of the Gerrup's wakeup call to Hermione.

Sheridan blinked. "Ah. Right. Pumpkin juice." He paused, then asked Harry, quite seriously, "Are oranges too expensive, or are pumpkins just traditional or something? I mean, it's not like they're native to England or anything …"

Harry shrugged, paying more attention to the other conversation.

"Well, I'll have to do some research on what exactly a Gerrup can _do_," Hermione was saying. "It's certainly worth a shot to put both a locking and silencing charm on it, but if it's a really magical alarm, it might be designed to overcome those …"

"Just so long as we aren't deafened every morning by that _thing_, I think we're good," Ron assured her, wincing slightly at the memory. "My ears are still ringing …"

"Unless you want us to be throwing hexes at the crack of dawn," Harry added, "because that's the only way we could shut it up."

"And if you're half-asleep, you don't exactly _aim_," Sheridan muttered around a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

"Chew and swallow before talking," Hermione admonished automatically as she picked up the copy of the _Daily Prophet_ that had been dropped on top of the bacon platter moments before. Sheridan was effectively silenced as he chewed his way through a large portion of scrambled eggs.

Ron reached over and pulled out one of the newspaper's middle leaves, scanning through the page with a serious expression on his face.

"What's that?" Harry asked, curious.

"Obituaries," Ron mumbled, still scanning. "They put missing blokes here, too – 'vanished and presumed dead' … hey!" He stopped suddenly, a shocked look on his face. "Mr. Ollivander's gone missing!"

"What!" the other three exclaimed. "How can _he_ be missing?" Hermione demanded. "He's wand-maker for all of England!"

"More than that," Ron continued, reading further. "His shop was all ransacked – wands scattered everywhere, broken chairs, things like that … but he's been there forever!" He raised his face, shocked. "What's the good of taking a wand-maker?"

"Easy," Harry replied without thinking. "Less wands, less wizards."

Hearing himself say that caused cold shiver to run down his spine. He'd known that Voldemort had returned, and that he was growing in strength … but he'd never really fully thought out what that would mean to parts of the wizarding community he knew. Sure, he'd known that bad things were going to happen, that something needed to be done – but he'd never realized that it would mean that wizards and witches that he knew would start vanishing, without a trace.

"We really are in the middle of a war," Sheridan murmured quietly. No one answered him – no one really needed to.

Their sudden bout of melancholy was abruptly interrupted as none other than Hagrid walked up to their table, a large grin taking up most of his face.

"Hey there, you three!" he called out as they turned in their seats, happy to see their friend. "Or should I say four? Yeh've picked up a straggler, then!" Harry, Ron, and Hermione glanced over to Sheridan, who grinned sheepishly.

"Err … how's your brother?" Hermione asked carefully. They hadn't told Sheridan about Grawp yet – Hagrid's half-brother, a very large, very vicious giant – but all were devoutly hoping that Hagrid had managed to find some other place to keep him other than the school grounds. None of them wished to visit Grawp again.

"Oh, he's grand," Hagrid assured them. "He's livin' up in the mountains now, got lots of company an' all that. He's lots happier. You never know, I might bring him down fer a visit or two sometime!"

"Really? That's … great!" Harry replied with a smile, very carefully not looking at either Ron or Hermione – their previous experiences with Grawp were not anything that left them wishing for return visits.

"Yep!" Hagrid agreed happily. "Anyway, I'll see yeh soon, firs' lesson's straight after lunch!" With that, he strode away, leaving three teenagers with rapidly sinking expressions.

Harry turned to Ron, whose face mirrored his own. "You … aren't taking Care of Magical Creatures as well?"

Ron shook his head. "And, Hermione, you're not either?"

Hermione shook her head, her expression despairing.

"I am," Sheridan offered, glancing about at his friends' faces with something like alarm. "What's wrong? You look like Armageddon just blew over."

"Oh, he's going to be _so_ upset!" Hermione wailed first, covering her face with her hands. "We're his _favorites_! _No one_ will be taking it!"

"But we worked hard because we like _Hagrid_, not the _subject_," Ron objected weakly.

"But he _thinks_ we did," Harry groaned. "How are we supposed to tell him?"

There was a pause. "Tactfully?" Sheridan finally suggested.

The other three turned to stare at him. He stared right back. "Or grammatically?"

Harry sighed. "We'll just have to tell him after lunch," he decided. "We have to show Shi where the class is held, anyway, if he's taking it."

Hermione sighed; Ron nodded, albeit grudgingly. No one wanted to think about how Hagrid would feel when he found out that his three favorite students had dropped his course.

Searching for something else to occupy her attention, Hermione landed on Sheridan's breakfast plate, which wasn't even half empty – two slices of ham and most of his scrambled eggs remained. "Eat that," she ordered, pointing the jam knife at him threateningly. "You've barely touched anything. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day."

Sheridan poked at his eggs for a moment, before spearing a slice of ham on his fork, holding it out in front of himself, and declaring: "I do not like green eggs and ham, I do not like them, Sam-I-Am!" A pause. "Maybe you should tell him in rhyme. That might work."

"Eat," Hermione insisted. When she decided she was going to take care of something, she never let it rest.

"Green eggs! And _ham_!" Sheridan insisted, waving the perfectly normal (and perfectly pink) slice of ham under her nose.

"Think of the house elves! They slave away, all day, with no pay or vacations or anything!" she demanded. "The least you can do is _eat_ their food instead of wasting it!"

"Ho, boy," Ron sighed, edging away. "Not this again."

"But I'm _full_!" the smaller boy protested. "And I did eat!"

"Not enough."

"I'm a grazer! I can't eat a whole lot at a time!"

"You can eat more than two slices of toast and three bites of eggs!"

Sheridan frowned and crossed his arms stubbornly, moving his plate as far away from himself as he could manage. "Green. Eggs. And. _Ham_."

Hermione opened her mouth, but before she could protest, Harry and Ron had both reached over and started eating the remains of the stubborn werewolf's breakfast. She scowled at them.

"Give it a rest, Hermione," Ron advised her as he accepted the impaled "green ham" from Sheridan. "It's not like he's starving, or anything."

"I eat brains," the boy in question declared. "I is _zombie_. This not brains! Green eggs and _ham_!"

Ron and Harry both nearly choked on their food as they burst into laughter, unable to contain it any longer. Even Hermione couldn't withhold a small grin from the werewolf, who beamed happily as he took a long draught of pumpkin juice.

Once they had finished eating (those who were not refusing to eat, at any rate), they managed to sit more-or-less quietly. This year, the Professors would be handing out class schedules after breakfast, personally clearing them as able to continue on with their chosen subjects. Unfortunately, Sheridan had serious problems with sitting quietly. He was in the middle of a rather complicated sort of street beat, drumming his fork and spoon against various plates and cups, when the food (and cutlery) vanished, signaling the end of the breakfast period. The four of them rose with the rest of the sixth-years and headed towards the staff table, in front of which their Heads of Houses were standing.

Neville passed by, having already gotten his schedule, positively beaming. "I don't have to do Transfiguration anymore!" he whispered to them jubilantly. "And Professor McGonagall says I can do Charms no matter what my gran says!"

"Good for you," they congratulated him happily. By now, even Sheridan had heard of Neville's mishaps in McGonagall's class, and they all knew how proud he was of his score in the Charms OWL's.

Hermione, when they reached McGonagall, was immediately cleared to take all of her chosen classes. Harry, glancing at her schedule, couldn't help but wonder if she had changed her mind about never using a Time-Turner again, after all – but she had raced off to her first class of the day before he could ask.

"Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall began as he approached her. "Your marks are very good, you're cleared for all your chosen classes … but, I was under the impression that it was your wish to become an Auror. Why didn't you sign up to continue your Potions classes?" She peered at him from under her brows – Harry felt as though she could read his mind. Maybe she could.

"I, ah, did, Professor," he replied, confused; "but you told me I had to have an "Outstanding" on my Potions OWL to take the NEWTs course."

"Well, for Professor Snape, you did," she informed him. "But your new Potions master, Professor Slughorn, is only too happy to accept "Exceeds Expectations" in his NEWT class. Perhaps you might reconsider?"

"Absolutely!" Harry replied, surprised and delighted. Maybe he could become an Auror after all! So far, Snape's unexplained absence, however worrisome, had brought only good.

"Very well. If you have no books or ingredients, I'm sure the Professor will be willing to supply some." She gave him a wry look. "Professor Slughorn is always, ah … _eager_ to assist young hopefuls such as yourself."

Harry nodded as he accepted his corrected schedule, puzzled but grateful. She then handed him another piece of paper, this time a list of maybe twenty names. He frowned, and looked up at the Professor's face.

"Hopefuls, young Mr. Potter, for the Gryffindor Quidditch team," she told him with a small smile.

"What?" Harry exclaimed. "But … I thought Katie was …"

"She was, indeed, Mr. Potter," McGonagall kindly interrupted. "But she has since decided that, since her own schedule is quite demanding, you would be far better qualified to be this year's Quidditch captain."

Harry was fairly certain he was gaping at the Professor, but he couldn't really help it. With a friendly smile, McGonagall motioned him aside and proceeded to clear Ron for the same subjects as Harry.

When she came to Sheridan, after clearing him for all subjects (much the same as that of Harry and Ron, with the exception of Potions and the addition of Care of Magical Creatures), she informed him: "I am afraid we do not keep ready maps of the school, Mr. Parker, but I believe your friends - " Here she paused and indicated Ron and Harry, who were waiting for Sheridan; "will be able to help you find your way. Punctuality is expected of all students, no matter how new to the school. And, sometime in one of your free periods, if you could please visit Madame Pomfrey in the hospital wing – I'm sure Mr. Potter can show you the way, he spends so much time there already - " Harry grinned as Ron quickly changed his laugh into a loud cough; "- as she has a few things she needs to discuss with you."

Sheridan snapped her a quick salute as he took his schedule. "Aye-aye, Professor, ma'am!"

Professor McGonagall pursed her lips, but Harry was fairly certain he had caught a glimpse of a smile. "That won't be necessary, Mr. Parker, thank you."

Sheridan saluted her again anyway, as the three of them strolled off at a leisurely pace.

"Ahh …" Ron sighed once they were in the hallways, stretching his arms out above his head. "Sweet freedom … free periods this year! Look, we've got one now, and one just after lunch -"

"Not me," Sheridan interrupted. "I've got Care of Magical and Inherently Dangerous Sorts of Creatures then."

"Is that really what it says?" Harry asked curiously, peering at the werewolf's schedule.

"No. But it's probably true."

"But you've got a free period where we've got Potions," Ron added, also comparing schedules with the smaller boy.

"Why aren't you taking Potions, anyway?" queried Harry – true, he couldn't actually see the easily-distracted Sheridan excelling in the course, but …

Sheridan shrugged. "Oh, it's no big thing. I just never really got the hang of mixing different ingredients together in a non-explosive way." He paused. "It was just a little lab room. And it wasn't _really_ destroyed, just a little scorched."

"You _blew up_ a _classroom_?" Ron repeated incredulously.

"_No_. I just … _scorched_ it, a little. It was my partner's fault, anyways."

"So your lab partner blew up a classroom?" Harry asked carefully.

Sheridan shook his head. "No, I did. He just kept muttering, telling me to pour acids into bases."

"And you _listened_ to him," Ron said more than asked.

"He was very persuasive!"

Harry snorted as he slung an arm around Sheridan's shoulders. "Shi, you and Neville need to get together and swap Potions stories sometime," he chuckled as they continued on down the hallway, headed for the common room. Ron and Sheridan just grinned and laughed.

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_"It is a far, far better thing to have a firm anchor in nonsense than to put out on the troubled seas of thought." -John Kenneth Galbraith

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**A/N:** Review Replies!_

**shedoc:** Abso-bally-lutely! It is, after all, still J.K. Rowling's world, and she's got stuff I really can't do without. So, yes, elements of the sixth book will be in here. But not all. By far and away, not all! Because, while it is her world ... it's _my_ plot. **((evil cackles))**

**Satio:** I do believe I'll start having to thank you in other languages, just to have variety. But in the meantime - _thank you_! Your reviews are _life_ to me. And, see? I did not hit the one-year mark! (One of my other stories did this recently, so it's an important issue for me.) Hope you like this chapter - the longest yet, and I do believe it moves the plot along. If you say I do breather chapters (and do them well), then I'll take your word for it - the chapters just write themselves that way, normally I have _no clue_ what it is I'm really doing. But I do hope that you enjoy this chapter, and that this "updating regularly" idea I've heard so much about will become an oft-repeated trend. Much love!

**Twin Tails Speed:** _Gratzi!_ I hope this one is worth the (longer) wait, as well!

**Zoe Saugin:** Funny is life! Oh, and I love your new name. So pretty ... and, y'know short. Like mine isn't. Because I made it up when I was twelve ... yeah. Thankyou from the bottom of my heart! **((blows kisses))**

Okay, y'all know the drill - REVIEW, AND THE PUMPKIN COOKIES WILL BE _YOURS_.


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